Love and War
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: AU. Tris is in basic military training. She shares a bunk bed with Christina, a dormitory with all the other recruits, and has Sergeant Tobias Eaton as one of her drill sergeants. There's obstacle courses (literally), training, fights, guns, and even a bit of romance that grows through the training. Eventual Fourtris.
1. Talking and the Barracks

**Thank you, God, for everything. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. This idea just sort of . . . came to me, and I have next to no military knowledge AT ALL, so please bear with me with this AU. Thank you! God bless you!**

**~ Tris Prior's POV ~**

I feel a hand on my shoulder, pushing me. I groan and try to ignore it, but I hear Christina's voice say insistently, "Tris, c'mon!"

I groan again, open my eyes and sit up, knowing that I have to get up. The military runs on a strict schedule that doesn't like to be disturbed. All the free time they give us when we're not in training I take to nap, though only really Christina notices. Which is a good thing. I'd rather not have people thinking that all I do is sleep.

Even so, I highly doubt finishing up dinner counts as free time.

Christina, her hair cut down to just below her ear, smirks. "Nice to see you're awake."

"What time is it?" I say, pushing my blonde hair, which is the same length as Christina's, out of my face.

She checks her watch. "5:25. We better get moving if we're going to get to mail call."

I nod, wincing, my sore muscles protesting as I stand up straight. All the push-ups, sit-ups and pugil sticks have added up. Today we had to go through a gas chamber where we were masked up until the last couple dozen seconds. I had had to say my name and the Pledge of Allegiance to Sergeant Max Killian, who yelled in my face again. I could practically feel the smirks of some of the other recruits (namely three named Drew, Molly and Peter) when I could barely make out the last few words. Christina could only give me a slightly concerned look in front of them.

It doesn't do to appear weak in front of the military.

Christina and I are battle buddies. We literally go everywhere together. We've made a couple of friends at the mess hall. Al and Will, battle buddies. We ignore calling them Soldier Albert Capton and Soldier William Drockery because they're not soldiers to us. They're Al and Will. And it's nice having friends.

We head to the main hall where we see some of the drill sergeants lined up. There's a sharp faced one with dark hair named Lauren, a guy with really black hair and piercings named Eric, and then Sergeant Tobias Eaton, with dark hair and a long nose. He watches me as I line up with the other recruits.

Eric steps up and says, "Soldiers, mail call for today." He walks down the line and sharply hands out mail to those who get it. He hands Christina a letter, making her face light up and she quickly hides it. He then turns to me and stops. I can see the holes in his lips up close. They're wide. He could easily spin the rings in his lips around.

"Prior," he says. His voice sounds quiet, and for the first time ever, I don't wince because of his loud voice. I do wince, though, out of habit of being near him. I shouldn't, though. I shouldn't let him intimidate me.

I don't speak. He hasn't given me permission to.

"You're going to be talking with Sergeant Eaton this evening," he says. He has a subtle smirk on his face as he goes down the line, telling random others they're going to have their own private talking session.

My heart thumps in my ears. I look up from the ground to Sergeant Eaton, who's looking out the window. There's not much to see out there. He must be bored. He almost always does, standing in the back, assisting Eric only when he wants to.

He's got the darkest blue eyes I've ever seen.

We're given permission to leave. Christina squeezes my shoulder slowly as she heads off to our room. I'm excited for her with her letter, but I'm more worried about talking with Sergeant Eaton. He can be perceived as intimidating. I try not to let him scare me. Still, sweat collects in my palms.

Finally, only myself and the other few that were asked to stay back are left. The drill sergeants each take to their charge. Al, always nervous, is held back, and Lauren leads him away.

Sergeant Eaton comes up to me, his footsteps hard and quick against the white tile. I quickly raise a hand to my forehead in a salute. He says, "Soldier Prior. At ease. Come along."

I drop my hand and manage a nod and follow him to one of the long tables here in the main hall. I take a seat on the bench, wiping my hands on my khaki pants. I look around as Sergeant Eaton takes his seat. This main hall is large, with long tables and benches. Like a cafeteria. It's relatively small, but since there's not too many people here in this city taking basic training, it doesn't need to be big.

"Soldier Prior." His voice demands my attention, and I turn to face him. His fingers, long and thin, clasp loosely together in front of him. "We did obstacles courses today. You were slow."

There's no need to remind me. We had ropes to climb and ropes to climb under and weights to carry and drag and running. I had fallen into the mud, and Eric had yelled at me to get up. Christina had finished up ahead of me, and this happened just before lunch. Before I was submitted to the gas chambers.

"Permission to speak, sir?" I say.

He waits a second, his eyes scanning my face, and then, "Granted."

"I know, sir, that I was slow," I say.

"Then why were you?" he says stoically. He still expects me to do the same amount of work and have the same kind of progress as everyone else here in this small fort. I straighten. He doesn't underestimate me. That's for sure.

"I was tired." He scoffs. "I WAS, sir."

"You don't use your energy skillfully," he says. "You take too much time concentrating on your breathing. Slowing your heartbeat would be a key thing in getting over a fear. I'm not here to eradicate fears, Soldier Prior. I'm here to train soldiers and get you through the initiation process to be a soldier to protect the city." He straightens, his thin lips in a thin line. "Focus on the task at hand, Soldier Prior, and the breathing will come easily."

I take in a breath and stare back at him, our eyes meeting. The darkest blue.

He continues. "You've got a thin frame, albeit, so you should use your elbows and legs to your advantage."

I nod, and dare to say, "All right, sir."

"Soldier Prior," he says warningly.

I nod and he says in a quieter voice, "You've got a brain, Soldier Prior. While the military uses a lot of strength, they like brains, too. Most brains, anyway." His eyes flicker from the top of my head to my eyes, and says, his voice even lower, "Use it to your advantage."

He stands up, making me do the same. He nods and says, "Head to the barracks, Soldier Prior."

I quickly salute him, saying, "Sir, yes, sir!" and stiffly walk away from him, his words fading in the back of my mind.

I drop my stiff act in the hallway and run down the rest of the empty halls to the barracks. With us being such a small fort here in Chicago, boys and girls bunk in the same room, though boys stay on one side and the girls on the other. It's a narrow, rectangular room, with bunk beds extending perpendicular from the two long walls, leaving a narrow hallway between them for walking.

"Tris!" I hear, and I turn to see Will. He's got buzzed blonde hair and a tall frame that's nearly falling out of his bunk. He sleeps on the top while Al gets the bottom.

"Hey," I say.

"You get called back?" he asks.

I gulp and nod.

"What for?" He flips over onto his stomach, and sticks his head in his folded arms. "You not yell 'sir' loudly enough?"

"No," I say. I take a breath. "Sergeant Eaton wanted to talk to me about me on the obstacle course today."

"What did he say?"

I don't want to tell Will about how I have to always slow down just to catch my breath. I don't want to look like a weak link, even to a friend. I merely say, "I need to be faster and use my elbows to my advantage."

"Might as well listen to him, huh?" Will says, and he reaches out and ruffles my short blonde hair.

I force his hand away, and I know I'm not hurting him when he smirks at me. "Stop it!"

"What? If anyone's worried about their hair getting messed up, it's Christina," Will says, looking beyond me to where Christina is sitting on her bunk of our bed. She gets the top while I get the bottom. She looks, concentrated, at the letter in her hand, but at the sound of Will's voice, looks up with a smirk.

"Yeah, so don't you try ruining it, 'kay, Will?" she says teasingly.

"I'll see what I can do," he says, and I walk out from under his hand and head to my bed. The bed, strictly folded, has grey sheets on it and a white pillow. It reminds me of my own home, where my parents and my brother and I would make our beds perfectly every day after breakfast, right on schedule. Everything we did was to a schedule. That's why, I guess, I'm almost used to things around here. New things to form into a schedule, but something I was accustomed to.

I look from my bed to Christina and say, "Who's it from?"

"My mom and sister," Christina says. She shows me a crayon picture that somehow made it past the military's tough scanning and says, grinning, "She's eight. She did that; she could be better, though."

That's Christina. She's the bluntest, most honest person I've ever met. I value honesty, though sometimes her honesty can hurt like a smack to the head.

"Did Four really want to see you to talk about you on the obstacle course?" she asks. She puts down the letter and says, teasingly, "Or was there something else?"

I scowl at her teasing tone and say, "Just the obstacle course, Christina." I add, "His name is Tobias."

"Oh, his friends are always calling him Four. Don't know why, though," Christina says. She looks at me for a moment and then says, "You're a horrible liar. There was other stuff you two talked about. Details!"

I laugh and shake my bead. "How about NO details?" I say, taking a seat on my thin bed.

Christina bends over the bunk so that her head is within inches of mine, her shiny black hair falling all over the place. "Why not?" A second passes, "He's hot, you know."

"HOT?" I say, almost incredulously. My face turns pink as I shake my head, making Christina laugh.

"C'mon. He's got to be at least two years older than us. He's got great hair, a great face. A great EVERYTHING. You HAVE to like him," Christina says.

I shake my head again and throw my pillow at her, smacking her in the head, and she pops back into her bunk. Sure, he looks nice, but from what I've experienced from the past few weeks, especially here in Phase 2, he doesn't like me. He's been watching me, and always throws me these stern looks whenever I do something wrong. He doesn't yell at me, though, like Eric does.

I sigh and grabbing my pillow, hold it to me between my drawn up knees and torso. I'm wearing my green T-shirt with khaki pants. Standard army wear. I managed to change before dinner. I probably should take a shower during free time tonight.

Lights go off at nine o'clock, and we've got free time since my interrogation session was short. Will and Al joke and run to the showers. Christina runs after them to make sure she has clean hair. She likes wearing makeup, but since we sweat everyday, she doesn't get to wear it. The thing she wants is at least some clean hair.

I lean down, letting go of my pillow, and grab one of my personal belongings they allow you to keep out from next to my bed. Three letters and a picture. Two of the letters are from my mother. Both say how much she misses me, and she hopes I'm happy with my decision.

The other is from my brother. It's short, and tells more of what he's been doing at the university than it has any sentiment. My father hasn't sent me a letter or even signed the ones Mom sent me. He didn't approve of me leaving our small life to join the dauntless military.

I flip the picture. It's of all of us. We barely have any photos of us, especially together. I hope my mother sent me a copy so she has one to keep. It's the four of us in front of our small, grey house. We're smiling. My father rarely smiles. My mother has a beautiful, light smile. Caleb, my brother, is wearing glasses. It's a recent one. He started wearing glasses because it made him look smart. He has perfect vision.

I look it over. I wonder what our life would have been if Caleb and I hadn't made such quick decisions to leave home. We were as tight a family as we could be, and my dad wasn't too pleased.

"Looking a little stiff there, pipsqueak," I hear, and I look up to see Peter with his posse, Drew and Molly. All three are bigger than Will and all kind of ugly. Except Peter. He'd be handsome if he didn't have that glowering, self-prideful smirk on his face. His personality ruins his appearance. "Had a tough time on the obstacle course?"

"Getting used to it, Peter," I say quickly.

"We've been doing them for a week," Drew says. "That's enough time, isn't it?"

"Wouldn't count on it. Not for her," Peter says.

"Oh, look," Molly says, and she quickly steps forward and makes a swipe for my picture. "Stiff's looking a little homesick."

"Go away," I say, moving the picture behind my back.

Molly straightens and Peter says, "That's a good name for you. Stiff. It works."

"What are you doing now, Pete?" I hear, and behind Peter comes a taller woman. It's Lynn, the girl who has the bunk bed with a girl named Marlene next to Christina and me. She went and buzzed her head before she came to training, and she's just gotten out of the shower, her face still wet with water. She cocks her head and says, "Make you feel manly and mature to pick fights with other recruits?"

Peter glares at her, and Lynn says, her voice no longer joking but deathly annoyed, "Get."

Peter walks off with Drew, the two making snarky, angry remarks to each other, and Lynn stares down the shorter, plumper Molly, who finally stands off and takes to her room on the other side of the room.

Lynn isn't someone you say 'thank you' to. She doesn't like it, so I just give her a nod of thanks and she gives me a nod back. She turns to her bunk bed and in one quick movement, lands herself on the top of the bunk.

Christina and Marlene come back from the showers, changed into tan pants and white T-shirts and both with wet hair. Christina sits next to me and says, "Were those idiots over here?"

"Again," I say.

Marlene takes her seat and says, wringing her hair out, "Ignore them. They think they're impressive when they do that."

"They want to make themselves act like the drill sergeants, obviously," Lynn says from above. She scowls. "They're acting more like schoolyard, annoying bullies than anything."

"Real mature," Christina adds, making me smile. "Oh, look, she smiles!" She gasps. "This is a miracle."

"Stop it," I say to Christina. She just grins and falls back on my bed.

We spend the next couple of hours talking random stuff in our free time. I go and change into my tan pants and white T-shirt to sleep in. Christina tries to get the boys to come in, but Will's off reading some book about maps and Al just sits quietly in his bed, his arms folded, a distant look on his face. He's been doing pretty badly on the obstacle courses. Almost as bad as me.

"It's getting late," Marlene says after a while.

"So? We can still talk until someone comes shouting for us to shut up," Lynn points out.

"True," Marlene says.

"You know what I heard we're doing tomorrow?" Uriah, one of the recruits who's close with Marlene and Lynn, says. "We're going to be taught how to handle and take care of carbine guns."

I've never fired a gun. Not even a water pistol. My parents and Caleb thought they were dangerous and mean. I don't know how well I'll do.

"Sounds awesome," Marlene says.

A loud voice rings through the barracks. Christina and I stretch our necks to see Eric, hands on his hips, yelling, "Soldiers, to bed! We're getting up at four-thirty tomorrow. Get to bed!"

I hear a noise, and behind Eric I see Zeke, one of the sergeants and Uriah's brother, blowing a horn. Next to him is Sergeant Eaton, Tobias. He leans against the doorway, his eyes sweeping the entirety of the room. They fall on me and I stare back.

Christina gets off and hurries into her bed. The lights go off. I can't see Tobias anymore.

I lay on my bed, hugging my pillow to myself, and hope that I can fall asleep. With us working on guns tomorrow, I can use all the help I can get.

**Thanks for reading! Now, I'm regarding this as a sort of special fort in the Divergent world that isn't quite like our own military, but like a futuristic one. God bless you!**


	2. Training and Close Contact

**Thank you, God, for everything. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. Guys, you all are so fabulous with these reviews! Now, I have six stories I'm working on here *facepalm* which was stupid of me to start and work on at the same time, so I'll update this as much as I can but don't count on regular, normal updates. ALLONS-Y! God bless you!**

"Troops! Recruits! Get up! Roll call!" A horn blares from the door. I groan and look up to see Eric, with Zeke behind him, taking the lay of the land. He walks through the narrow hallway between the beds, calling out his usual morning barking orders for troops to get up. It's still dark. And 4:30. Still, you're not allowed to argue with the military.

Eric leaves, leaving the lights overhead on in his wake. The air fills with complaints, groans and slight snores before broken as everyone stretches their sore muscles and starts to get up.

I sit up in bed and nearly start when Christina jumps down from her bunk. She yawns as she stretches, "I need a mirror."

"Why?" I say.

"I need to brush my hair before we go out." Christina and her girly habits. I barely pay attention to my appearance, but I look in a mirror when I can't help it. I've been getting thinner, more jaunty ever since I came here. My eyes are slightly sunken in, with bags under them. They used to sparkle, almost. Add a sort of beauty to my plain body. Now they're dull.

"I'll brush your hair," I say.

She shakes her head and says, "Nah. I'll do it in the bathroom. You're slow. We need to get moving before Eric comes in again."

"And Zeke with that blasted horn," Lynn growls. She hates mornings the most.

"I see what you did there," Marlene says, grinning as she gathers her training clothes.

I can hardly see why she wants to smile this early in the morning. I gather my clothes and head to the changing room, which is just the bathroom in this facility. I lock the stall and tug my shirt off of my head. I put on another one with my military jacket.

I'm about to pull my pants over my underwear when someone bangs on my door. "What?" I say, stopping in an awkward position, one pants leg on, the other off.

"I want this stall." I burn. It's Molly.

"I'm using it," I say, and I finish putting on my pants as she bangs on the door again.

"Get out, Stiff," she yells.

"Get lost before someone comes and reprimands us, Molly," I say. I put on my shoes and try to ignore her pounding, hoping it doesn't send Lauren running in wondering the hell is happening. I bend and quickly gather the rest of my clothes before I open the door abruptly, nearly hitting her in the face.

"Sorry," I say, without any guilt. I walk past her to the sinks.

Marlene is busy trying to brush her long hair and Lynn washes her face. "Think we'll be doing CLS again today?" Marlene wonders. CLS, or Combat Live Saver, is basically First Aid to a higher, battling degree. We're forced to answer questions about setting bones, dressing wounds and applying medicine to casualties. Tobias has demonstrated how to set a tourniquet on a leg of a dummy. His long fingers seemed uncommonly at ease doing so.

"Probably. You'd just love doing CPR on Uriah, wouldn't you?" Lynn says sarcastically, making Marlene duck her head. She has a blush.

Lynn shakes her head and finishes up. "Come on," she says, and she and Marlene head out.

I take my dirty clothes to the laundry and Christina finds me, saying, "We have to go make our beds, you know. Let's go see if Will and Al decided to get out of bed." For their sake against Eric, I hope so. Especially Al. He's a big guy, but he got beaten by Molly a couple of days ago during physical hand-to-hand combat. They fought in an almost small wrestling ring and Molly dominated him. Eric got mad and yelled at him more.

We do a variety of stuff around here. It's mostly the same things, but our schedules are different everyday. Everything is in hours, and we have different classes to fill our hours each day. It adds a little variety to our schedule.

Christina and I hurry into the barracks. Everyone leans over their beds, working quickly to set the corners straight and make sure there's no wrinkles. I know from watching Eric berate a girl named Myra that wrinkles are intolerable. I remember that as I tighten the corners on my bed.

Someone yells and everyone jumps to the front of their beds. I stand straight next to Christina. She's a good few inches taller than me. Her shoulder hits the top of my head.

Lauren comes in and inspects each bed before she nods and yells out orders to follow her for the physical examination in the mess hall.

We enter, our footsteps all even and hard against the tile. I stand in the long line that extends from the left to the right, the entire length of the mess hall. I straighten my back, as like everyone.

Eric, Lauren and Tobias walk down past us, taking a minute or two to look us over. I keep my face straight, blank, when Eric looks my scrawny body over. He doesn't make any noise or say a single word before he passes on to the next. My eyes look away from the kitchen across from me, though, and carefully set on Tobias as he looks at Christina. His face is set in an expressionless look, only nodding when he's finished. His muscles are defined through his jacket, a bit of dark hair prickling at the back of his neck. I think I almost see a bit of a stripe of black on him, but Eric sees me, and I quickly look straight ahead once more.

The inspection ends and we're off to physical training before breakfast. I get in a rank with Christina, Will, Al, Drew, and Peter, among others. Peter pokes my back as we walk out into the yard. I try to ignore him. A minute later he tries again, and Christina catches his finger and twists his wrist. All without looking behind her. He lets out the slightest choke of pain. She lets go and we keep walking into the yard.

It's pitch black out. The entire fort, a small one, is enclosed with electric fences. Tobias leads my group. He stops and orders us, "ATTENTION!"

We stand at attention, and he walks up and down the line, and we settle down for our usual routine of jumping jacks, sit-ups, push-ups, and running. We're all in straight lines, eight by six.

The push-ups are hard on my arms. I've got skinny arms, but I also have a skinny body. It helps as I go up and down, heaving in breaths, trying to focus on keeping myself calm. I need to not overexert myself. I still need to show that I'm a good soldier, though. I need to keep up.

Beside me, Christina puffs away. She's not the best, but she'd not the worst. I can hear Molly's snorts in the back. I use this as fuel to finish with my push-ups, and Tobias yells for me to start running. Four loops around the fort, following the gate without touching it. Each loop is a quarter mile.

I head to the door where the jeeps go through and start from there. I follow the gate. It stays on my left as I jog, my hands pumping beside me. Recruits are in the front and the back of me. I hear Christina get called to run by Tobias. She will play to catch up with me.

I head around twice well enough. My muscles aren't nearly as sore as yesterday. I only get a sort of ache when I pass the office building for the third time. Peter, on his fourth lap, nearly shoved me into the fence as he passes me. I stumble into a low ditch, but manage to get out and run. I can beat him. Well, he's ahead by a lap. But I can pass him.

I relax a little, and take a burst of speed. My feet speed ahead. My heart pounds. I pass Lynn. I pass Marlene. I pass Will. Peter is ahead of me. Drew is nowhere in sight, probably still back in push-ups. I push forward. My muscles burn and I pass Peter. He must be angry now, but I don't care. I speed ahead around the fort, and then pass him again when he's nearly at the finish line.

Within three minutes, I'm at the finish line. I nearly fall to my feet, but instead grip my kneecaps with my sweaty hands. I look up when Christina says, breathing heavily, "Nicely done, Tris."

I smile and look behind me at Peter, who burns, even though he was a lap ahead of me. I get a feeling of relief and smugness despite myself. But then I remember I've got Peter annoyed with me now.

But he's always annoyed with me.

Tobias calls for us all to fall into ranks. I feel his eyes on me as I quickly fall in with Christina. He glances at me but then quickly turns away when he sees someone behind the rank that must be looking at him. I don't know who. I don't see anyone as we march back into the mess hall.

We're released and we set off to breakfast. Uriah, as usual, takes to the front of the line. The rest of us assemble after him. I get behind Christina, and turn away slightly to see Tobias sitting with his fellow sergeants. I think Zeke makes a joke. Eric barks out a rough laugh. Lauren looks annoyed with the both of them. Tobias ignores them all and eats a muffin.

Someone pushes me from behind and I move ahead in line. I take a muffin, a carton of milk and a couple of sausages on my tray, and then follow Christina to our usual end of the one of the long tables. We sit there with Al and Will, who are both loaded down.

"Do you just take the pan of bacon or did you leave some for the rest of us?" Christina says teasingly to Will.

"There's some left. I think," Will says.

Al doesn't say anything. He just picks at his eggs.

I look away from him, not sure what to do. I open my carton of milk. I pick at my sausage, which Christina tells me to eat.

"Bulk up, Tris," she says, almost cheerfully.

"You could use it," Lynn says, sitting next to Will. Marlene sits next to Christina. Uriah sits next to me.

He leans toward me and says, "I'll take it if you don't want it."

"Stop it, Uri," Lynn says. "You've eaten half of the food already."

Marlene giggles, making Uriah smile at her. I don't care for the sausages. I grab my muffin and slid the plate to Uriah.

"That was exhausting," Marlene says, eating her bran muffin.

"No more than usual," Lynn says.

"Do you think we'll be doing hand-to-hand combat again today?" Uriah asks.

Al looks interested at that.

No. Not interested. Worried.

"I'm interested in having Edward fight," Will says. "He's good." Here in our fort, it's boys against girls in hand-to-hand combat. I hope I don't have to go against Edward. He's tough looking, though I think he's with Myra. So I think he's okay unless he's fighting against you. He nearly pulverized Christina fighting her.

"Pity the poor thing that goes against him," Uriah says.

"It's a shame we can't have Peter against him," Will says. This makes Christina laugh heartily. Everyone else nods and agrees. No one, especially Christina, likes Peter.

Breakfast over, we get rid of our trays and then head out into the yard for training. Tobias marches out behind us and calls for us to separate into two groups. Girls on one side, boys on the other. We do so. Christina stands beside me and looks across the yard to Peter. He cracks his knuckles. She doesn't flinch in the slightest.

Eric looks around the ranks, rolling a ring in his lip. He pauses and then: "Prior, step up!"

I step forward. I know I'm not supposed to disobey him. I just hope that I don't get put against Edward. Or, worse in my opinion, Peter.

I gulp and wipe my hands on my pants, looking around at the boys' side, wondering which one is going to go against me. Al looks away, toward the offices. Will looks a little worried under his brave face. Peter looks excited. He grins slightly.

"Leman, get in," Eric says. Peter steps forward. He has a sneer around his lips.

I clutch my fists and people step back. Eric stands near Tobias, a hand at his chin, his eyes intently watching us with a sort of greedy look. Tobias looks concentrated on what's about to go on.

I try to ignore them as I step forward. Peter stands before me, cracking his fists. I take a deep breath. He's larger than me, so I need to use my strengths to take him down. My body weight isn't my strength.

_"You've got a thin frame, albeit, so you should use your elbows and legs to your advantage." _Tobias's words echo in my head. My elbows and legs. I can grapple Peter with my legs, if I can get him in my grasp.

Tobias had also said I should use my brain to my advantage. That means I have to be smart rather than bulky in order to beat Peter.

I haven't beaten anyone since we began wrestling around. No one, except Al. He was too easy, though. He failed on his own account, not on my skill.

I take a deep breath as Eric says, "Go ahead. Fight!"

Peter steps forward to me, saying, "How long will it take to take you down, eh, Stiff?"

I ignore his words and look for a weak spot on him. His hands are raised near his torso, leaving his legs vulnerable. I highly doubt the army would like it, though, if I kick him in the groin, nearly rendering him useless. The sides of his legs, though . . .

He starts at me, wrapping his burly arm around my neck. I land a punch in the middle of his stomach, but it does little to deter him. He lands a punch on my back as I reach my leg around his leg, kicking him in the thigh. The action combined with him hitting my back causes me to fall, bringing him down on me.

He sits on my back, releasing his arm from around my neck, allowing me to breathe. I twist my leg and kick him in the back, though not very hard. He sinks one foot into my hair. The other goes from my side to my nose, which he stomps. I scream and twist my head out from under him, and manage to bring my elbow out. He dips his head down, a fierce look on his face, and I punch him in the nose with my elbow. He instantly goes back, howling. With him distracted, I land both of my arms against his sides, and push him off of me with a grunt. I stand up, panting, and he makes to stand up as well.

Before he can, I land another elbow to his face, then to his thigh, then his stomach. He stumbles. I step forward and wrap a leg around his back legs, sliding him against the ground. I elbow his head with an angered force as he goes down, and he coughs. I stand back, panting heavily. My heart pounds. My muscles hurt. My elbows hurt.

Eric pronounces him down and yells for us to get back in line. I stumble quickly to Christina, who looks at me, saying, "You did well."

I just nod. She wants pain on Peter, and he has just that. He glares at me. He's not going to let this go. Not Peter.

Eric doesn't say anything about me beating Peter. He just calls for Will to go against Christina. I go on my tiptoes, nearly biting my nails down to the pale nail. Christina goes up and sizes up Will. He's bigger. He's probably going to win. They're friends, though. I know neither of them want to hurt the other, but they're being forced to.

Eric shouts for them to fight, and they take to each other. Will forces Christina down, making a SMACK! on the ground. She grunts and manages to flip him over before he can land a fairly good blow.

He grunts and does the same. He's on top of her, pinning her legs down with his arms, his teeth gritted together, within a minute.

I look to Eric. So does Tobias, but he isn't looking as interested. His eyes are looking darker than either as they look at Eric, almost in anger and annoyance.

Eric pronounces Will the winner. Will gets off of Christina and offers her his hand. Eric says, "Let her get up by herself."

Will steps back and Christina manages to shove herself up. She exchanges a look with Will. Will isn't very chivalrous but he's gentlemanly, and he tries opening the doors for us girls. Still, even though I note his efforts with gratitude, I know what Christina feels as she joins me. No one is supposed to need help from anyone like that. Not in the military.

After a couple more fights with Eric yelling for more progress and aggression, we get into ranks to walk to our next training class. Tobias walks and lingers just near me, just for a moment. He looks ahead to where Eric leads, and then quickly turns to me, whispering, "You did well, Tris," and then he walks ahead to join Eric.

I nearly stop in my rank. I'm in the back, so no one bumps into me. I watch after him as he disappears among the heads, and Christina quickly turns and says, "Tris! Come on!"

I hurry up to join her, and she whispers so as to not move her lips, "What was that about?"

I shake my head. She rolls her eyes. She can see the slight blush I've taken on. I put a hand to the ear he whispered in for a second before I walk on around a corner. He called me _Tris_. Not _Soldier _or _Prior_.

_Tris. _

**And so the Fourtris building begins. Someone hand me some bricks and mortar, this Fourtris is going to be THICK! Ha ha ha. Excuse the bad pun. Please.  
**

**Thank you for reading, oh my lovely fellow Initiates. Fare thee well! God bless you!**


	3. Guns

**Thank You, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. You all have been patient. HERE IS CHAPPIE.**

There are classes that are tiring. I feel like falling asleep on my desk, but Peter's incessant poking at my neck seems to keep me up. I can feel a bruise start to form where the point has indented my skin. Christina, who sits next to me, looks murderously at him. At some points I feel like I'll have to fling myself on her to hold her down from wrestling him right there and then.

But Eric is teaching us. She wouldn't dare do that.

My name still rings in my mind as we march outdoors once more. Not just the word but how he said it, how his voice made it sound. I'm not going to lie. I am not good at it. He is nice to look at, but he's my sergeant, and so any, what are considered almost unholy thoughts, in my minds, should be gone.

But I let them linger. I've never had them before. It makes me feel almost rebellious to harbor such thoughts. Nobody here can read my mind.

Outside we're led to a table. Along the table is guns. Tobias stands behind it along with Lauren. I straighten when Eric calls for everyone to do what he says. Follow orders. We have become robots in that way. Emotionless. Killing. It's strange. I don't know how I feel about it. I certainly don't like it. I don't like being controlled.

I let my hands fall to my sides as Tobias starts to talk. I barely hear the words he says. He is holding a gun in his hands. An M4 Carbine, I think he calls it. He flips it around, explains it, but the words are muddled in my head. I hear only his voice speaking. It's strange, how it fits him and how it comes out of his mouth and I should be able to understand him. But I can't.

I can't until someone pinches my back and it's all that's in me not to turn around and punch Peter, hopefully break his nose. But that's disturbing the camp. Wouldn't want to act out of line.

Tobias and Lauren shoot at targets, explaining how to keep your arms and legs and eyes and body while doing this. Lauren finishes her shots and nods for Tobias to do his. He steps forward, each step purposeful. He sets the gun against his shoulder, his muscles definite, hidden behind the cloth of his shirt. He sets into a position and suddenly shoots, making Christina gasp behind me from being startled. But I'm not startled. I knew what to expect.

He finishes, looks at the target he was shooting at. It has several black holes in it now. He turns to us and says, "Everyone grab a gun. You're getting involved now."

We're each handed an M4 Carbine. It's heavy in my hands, which feel small under such weight. It feels strong, making my grip on it harder. The smooth exterior feels flawless under my skin. It's so strange how such a dangerous weapon can look so compact and clean.

"We're going to do something called field-stripping," Tobias says. Peter lets out a wolf whistle and Tobias looks like he can cut off his air supply with only one hand. "This is where you take apart your gun and learn to assemble it back to its original state. You will be timed." Suddenly his hands are moving fast, faster than lightening, and his lip is being bitten as he strips his gun down to its bare essentials, tearing it apart like a piece of meat. My mouth drops open as he gives us barely ten seconds to take the sight in before he quickly, methodically, snaps the pieces back together. Within a few minutes he lays the gun on the table, steps back, and takes in everyone's awed expression. His mouth in a fine line as he says, "I suggest you hurry up and get started."

That sends everyone into action. Christina nearly trips me and Peter purposely tries to knock me over. I duck and avoid his elbow. He takes up the spot I was heading for at the table, moving his elbows around as much as he can to muck everyone else's guns up. All this with a cool expression and keen eyes.

My hands fumble around the parts of the gun. I barely heard a word as to what their names are. I have to disassemble it first. This is proven hard as I try breaking it apart. I snap something, I'm sure. My heart races as I try not to glance at anyone else's progress, feel pressured. I hear Lynn let out a whoop and Marlene a wounded sigh, though. Neither of which are a good sign for me.

I can feel eyes on the back of my neck. I dare to look over my shoulder. Tobias has his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes staring back at mine until he looks away. He walks to the other side of the table.

I turn back to my gun, my breaths coming out in short spurts. I have a disarray of gun pieces half caught in my hands. I never would have thought that this would ever happen. There is a first for everything, especially for me, when firsts come later in life than like everyone else's when they happen before they're a teen. Though, I'm sure no other regular teens are randomly trying to assemble a gun.

People step away from the table. Peter is next to me and one of the first to move. Tobias comes over, his arms folded over his chest, and looks over the gun. He takes it in his hands and I try to ignore them, but I can feel the pressure building on me as Peter's is pronounced fairly well done and I am drowning in gun pieces.

Christina steps away with a laugh. I have no idea how much time has gone by, but I feel like time is slipping away from me, the minutes piling into hours as my hands try to fit everything back together like a puzzle.

And then everything around me stops. There's silence. Complete silence. I look up from my pile of pieces to see rough versions of the guns sitting on the table. I haven't even something resembling those pieces of crap.

Lauren looks across the table at me and says nothing. Tobias says nothing.

I gulp, feeling uncomfortable under the stares.

Lauren straightens and calls for everyone to fall in line. She nods to Tobias, who in turn gets what she is saying. I wonder what it is. I know it's about me. How I'm struggling through these courses though I'm giving everything I have.

The rest of the day is filled with silence. Christina, at seeing how distraught I am, says, putting an arm around my shoulders, "Don't beat yourself up about it."

I don't want to. I try to forget it happened, but there's the smirks, the sounds of pleased arrogance emanating from Peter, Drew and Molly. Even Eric seems to know that I failed miserably. He smirks at me, shouts at me more. I barely hear him, though. I close my ears, try to shut him out of my mind. I need to not focus on them. Will tries mouthing them off. Al tries to cheer me up. But their efforts are in vain. So they give up and we don't talk at the dinner table.

Mail call holds nothing for me but another appointment with Tobias. At least it's not Eric, though Tobias is hardly better. He saw me fail. It would probably be better for me to have Lauren staring at me with her stony eyes instead of Tobias looking at me.

I try not to look at his eyes. They engulf you, they're so dark. So I look at my hands in my lap instead, hope he doesn't expect me to join in the conversation.

"You were frazzled." Wow. Real blunt of him.

"Yes, sir," I say, looking up, almost defiantly. I am mad at myself for doing badly, but I'm not going to have him sitting and judging me.

"You obviously have inexperience in handling a gun at all," Tobias says. "Ever used one before? Held one?"

"I've never even used a water pistol," I say.

"That's a problem, seeing as you're in training where guns save you," Tobias says. I catch almost a slight grin, but it disappears. He's not friendly. He's an instructor. A teacher.

"You can't expect a person to be able to disassemble and then reassemble a gun in that time frame the first time," I say. I'm a bit spiteful now. They expected us to know that, like it's a basic skill we should have had. But I don't, and that's not my fault. "Without instructions. Completely from memory."

"It might have helped if you were paying attention," Tobias says. He leans forward slightly, his arms folded in front of him and on the table. They're within inches of me. "You weren't paying attention. I know that. You were distracted. Your fault. You should know to watch and learn."

"You can't expect me to memorize what you were doing, though," I say.

"Still trying to defend yourself?" He sounds a little surprised, like he wasn't expecting me to be like that.

"You're doing the same," I say. "Don't play the victim."

Holy crap.

No. No no no no nope nope nope nope.

This is beyond bad.

Number one rule: don't make your instructor mad. Don't make any of the drill sergeants mad. It's practically mandatory around here, and I just accused him of playing the victim.

I should have him yelling in my face, making me shrink from him, but he's still in his seat. Still looking over at me. It's unnerving and almost worse. He doesn't look angry or threatened or provoked. No. Thoughtful. Taking me in.

"I know," he says finally. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I was waiting for him to speak, like his words gave me permission to breathe. "It is unfair. But don't blame me. It's the system. I merely pour out what they want me to say, to demonstrate, to make you do and master."

"How do they expect you to master that?" I say cautiously, still wary of his rank and my brashness.

"I don't know. They think people are robots made to be fashioned, to be made into their image of what they want," he says quietly.

A robotic army. Makes sense. They don't want people to be different. They want them to conform to what they want. We signed up for this, though. I signed up to be made to assemble a gun as fast as I can and do their orders. And suddenly I'm disgusted with myself.

"I can teach you," Tobias says.

"You already did," I say, my voice sounding annoyed.

"How to disassemble and reassemble a gun," Tobias says, as if my words didn't perturb him. "The right way. Slowly, with instruction. Without the other students. Without that pressure. One-on-one."

I straighten. A proposition. One-on-one might work for me. I just need his patience and a gun. That'll work. I nod.

He nods and orders me away. I walk down the hall, curling and uncurling my fists, which are sweaty. He might lose his job for this. He is breaking a rule. I just know it. Singling me out and teaching me in secret when he should just scream at me to get it, make me cry. But no. He isn't doing that. Eric would do that. Tobias isn't.

And for that, I'm grateful.

**FOURTRIS BUILDING. YESSSSS. And remember, I'm basing all I know of the military system from Wikipedia, so please don't blame me for inaccuracies. Thanks for reading!**


	4. The Gas Chamber of Death

**Thank You, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. Or Doctor Who. Thanks for reading!**

"Yay, it's my favorite time of day," Christina says. She is covered in the same heavy clothes the rest of us are. The mandatory clothes and mask for entering the gas chambers.

"I know. Nothing like surviving a chamber filled with poisonous gas to keep us awake," Will says, letting out a sigh. He looks like he wants to break into a list of ingredients the gas is probably made out of, but the first day he had done that and we had immediately stopped him. He had listened to us and did. I think that's the main reason we became friendly toward him.

Al is tapping on his gas mask, looking worried. He hates the gas chamber. So do I, but I just suck it up and make it through. It burns but it's the easiest part of my day lesson-wise. Get in, get out. Say a few words. Nothing too hard about that.

We go in in groups. Too many people can overcrowd the gas chamber. Eric watches into it and then nods. He must be seeing the group in moving out. He turns to our group and yells in a harsh voice for us to put on our gas masks.

Mine is heavy on against my face. I can hear Christina whisper to Will, "Are you my mummy?" I swear he smiles behind his mask.

We're ordered in and we step in. Greenish gas surrounds us, the sound of machines around me on all sides. I slowly start to walk. They want us to get out as fast as we can, but I still need to get used to it. To feeling the gas around my body. Prolong my exposure to it. I can't gain immunity from it. But I can try.

Al hurries ahead of me, wanting to get away as fast as he can. It's so quiet. Just the sound of gas spewing into the chamber and the sound of people's feet moving.

My breathing is strange to me. It sounds so different in my ears, more predominant than when I usually breathe. I take in a deep breath and head along the chamber until I find the door.

I have to wait in line. The door is being opened at intervals and people take off their masks one at a time to intake some gas and say a phrase before hurrying toward the clear air. Clear air. I take another big breath. That sounds good. I just need to wait my turn. That's all.

My turn comes. I take off my mask and instantly want to put it back on. The gas starts to creep into my body, my nostrils filling with it, my lungs instantly burning, and there's someone talking and I say, "I pledge . . . allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which is stands . . . one nation, under God, and . . . and. . ."

And I feel something pulling back on my shirt. I'm yanked back into the depths of the gas and I can't breath. I gasp for air, drowning, clawing for air, trying to find it somewhere in the mist.

But then my stomach drops, my hearing goes, and my eyes close.

And everything is black.

* * *

It's a fog. Everything is foggy. I should have expected that my head wouldn't be clear, but I'm still groaning as I try to sit up on a cot.

"Careful," I hear someone say. It's a familiar voice. I turn my head to see Tobias standing in the doorway. I don't move a muscle. Don't even shrink away from him. Just stare at him, wondering why he is here.

"What happened to me?" I say out loud.

"Isn't it obvious?" His voice sounds bitter. Way too bitter.

"No, it's not," I say. He looks away from me and I'm wary. But my head is also woozy. I have to go about this carefully and not pass out again. I won't pass out in front of him. "What happened to me?"

"Do you know Soldier Andrew Dawes?" Tobias says. He is looking away from me, at a curtain.

Drew. One of Peter's posse members. The one other than Molly. "Yes, sir."

"He pulled on your collar. Dragged you back into the gas and you inhaled too much. You should be fine now, though," Tobias says. He sounds angry, and I can see his hands form into fists.

I take a deep breath. The fresh air still burns me. I feel like I'm still burning, but I shouldn't feel like this. I put a hand to my chest and breath against it. Burning. Scratching.

"You're in the infirmary," Tobias says, as if he thinks that I'm too disoriented to know where I am. "The doctors have taken a look at you. They'll be here in a minute or two. You'll be fine. You shouldn't have lasting damage."

"Who got me out?" Somehow the answer to this question is important to me.

"I caught your arm and got you out before the gas totally filled your lungs," he says bluntly. He still doesn't meet my eyes. "Be careful with the men in your barracks. Watch your back."

I lay back against the pillow I have. My chest feel so thin. I can feel every breath go through me.

A doctor comes in and examines me. Gives me a pill and says that I require bed rest for the rest of the day. I need it. I just want to close my eyes. Stop the world from spinning around me.

I get up and head to the door once the doctor clears me. Tobias steps back, his arms folded over his chest, his eyes trained on the floor like it's the most interesting picture he had ever seen.

I pause in the doorway, my hand caught on the frame. I look out toward the hall. "Sir?"

"Prior," he says acknowledgingly.

"What happened to Soldier Dawes?" I whisper.

"He is being sent home for misbehavior, bad conduct," Tobias says. For practical murder.

It had potential to be fatal. Peter probably provoked him into doing it. I can practically see Peter's glinting eyes when he saw me fall in front of him from prolonged exposure to the gas.

"Good," I whisper under my breath, and I head off to the barracks, my head still slightly woozy, but happy with the knowledge that Drew is finally gone.

Maybe we'll finally get some peace.

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?" is what Christina says the moment I enter the barracks. I look over to her and her face is excited but ashen, like she was worried but then when she saw that I 'm fine, she threw the unneeded caution away.

I sit on the top of my bed, a hand against my head, trying to regain my familiarity about the world. Try to stop my head from spinning.

Christina comes down from her bunk and lands hard beside my legs. I wince from the tremor in the bed.

"I mean, all we got was that you passed out in the gas chamber. But you were right behind me. I heard you talking, reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. How did you pass out then?" Christina says.

It's then when I notice that Uriah is sitting with Lynn on her bunk across from us. That Will is looking up from his clasped hands and Al is looking to me from his cross-legged position next to Marlene on her bed.

"Drew pulled me back into the chamber," I say.

"With your mask off?" Will says as Christina and Uriah swear.

I nod and Lynn promptly calls him a name starting with a D that makes Marlene, the only fairly innocent one of us all, widen her eyes. I've been around these people for too long now. I've gotten used to their cursing.

"What happened after that?" Will prompts. His eyes look worried.

"I was carried out and then I woke up. I was given medicine and sent here," I say. I purposely leave out the part of Tobias being by the infirmary when I woke up. They might view it as favoritism. While, for the most part, we're friends here, they'll stiffen at the thought of one of the mean instructors being nice to only one particular person.

I straighten and say, "What time is it?"

"Ten-thirty," Uriah says. I was out for so long. It's funny how quickly time can pass away when you're unconscious. You can wake up and feel like days have passed.

"Why hasn't Drew come to get his stuff, then?" I say. They asked what had happened to him. Obviously they didn't see that he was sent away.

"He probably got his stuff and was sent home while we were still in classes," Christina says.

"Why didn't they let us know? Make him an example for us all?" Uriah wants to know.

I shrug. "Maybe the army is nice enough to respect a person's privacy."

Uriah scoffs. "He doesn't deserve privacy. Technically, he should be booted out for attempted _murder_."

Murder. Again, that word. Uriah and Christina start to get into a discussion, a look coming over their faces as they wonder if they could point that out to the sergeants. But I want this to blow over. Having a trial with Drew for my attempted murder sounds suddenly like too much. My head pounds and I wish for them to not do that.

"You go to sleep and we'll figure Drew out," Christina says firmly, smiling like she's my older sister and has a plan to exact revenge.

"Maybe it's better to not try to mess with the system," Al says quietly. It's the first words he's spoken.

"I'd rather have to go to a lot of trouble and have justice served than not," Christina says.

I have a feeling they'll be talking about it for as long as they can as I grab my clothes and head off to the bathroom, declining Marlene's offer to walk the way with me. I don't want them to think that I need a bodyguard or an escort to take me places. I don't want them to think that I can't take care of myself.

In my army pajamas, as I walk back to the barracks, I pass Peter on his way to the boys' restroom. In his hands is grey clothes; he has a horrible smirk on his face. He sacrificed Drew but he nearly got what he wanted. He probably doesn't want me dead, but he wants me to cower, to fumble, to allow him to get the upper hand.

I hold my chin high and give him my brightest smile. Like I would want him to think that he has that.

**Y'all's reviews are absolutely fabulous, and I love them all! God bless you!**


	5. Guns and Phase II

**Thank You, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. Oh, hello, my friends. Have another chapter on the house. *Puts on sunglasses* Stay cool. **

I get held back one evening a few days later. It's after mail call once more, and I'm assigned to Tobias to talk again.

We sit down and I wonder what the hell I've done now when he says in a very quiet voice, "Meet me at my office tonight at ten." He slips me a pass. "This will get you through the halls."

I don't dare ask what we're doing, but I have a distinct feeling as he pushes himself away from the table and orders me away.

My hands have been fumbling less and less with the gun, but it still makes no sense to me. There's a magazine and a trigger and barrels. Words that are only applied to pieces of guns that I don't understand. I'm far upstaged by everyone here, even Al, who looks a bit relieved that he can do this and not fail miserably.

That night Christina wants to know where I'm going. Her eyes widen and she jumps down from her bunk when she finds out whose office I'm going to.

"What are you doing there? What do you WANT to do?" she says. She has an evil glint in her eye as she whispers, "Are you guys together?"

I'm slightly startled, and I'm not even acting. I shake my head. "No."

"Then what's the reason? And don't lie, I can tell," Christina says, putting a hand on her hip, cocking her head with a smirk on her face. She can read body language and tell if someone's lying. She's always right if they're lying or being insincere.

I sigh. "Promise not to tell?" She nods. I lean in closer and whisper, "He's showing me how to assemble and disassemble a M4 Carbine."

"Cheating with the instructor." Christina is grinning, which is not helpful.

"It's not cheating," I say.

"Fine, he's tutoring you," Christina says.

"You've seen how bad I've been doing in class. You've seen how Peter smirks," I whisper. "I don't want that anymore. You should know out of all people what it's like to have Peter have the ability to gloat over you."

She turns serious at that.

"You think you might fail if this doesn't happen, then?" she wonders. She looks burning at the mention of Peter. She really detests him.

"I might," I say. I shrug. Can you still graduate if you completely fail one class?

She's serious looking, though, as she says, "Who brought up the idea? You or him?"

"He did," I say slowly.

She lets out a very loud squeak. "When? What was he like when he asked you? Did he ask or suggest? Did he look like he was happy about offering? Details, Tris, _come on_."

I smile very sweetly at her. "I have to go now. He's expecting me."

She frowns but lets me off, seeing as she knows that it's bad if you upset one of the drill sergeants. After all, the military runs on a strict schedule. But she yells after me, "I am making you talk when you get back!"

Her words fade away as I make my way out of the barracks, much to many people's surprise. This is what happens when we all share barracks. People are always around the entrance and exit and know what and when people are going.

Zeke stops me at the door, questions my leaving. My pass makes it past his inspection and I find myself in one of the gray halls. I let out a breath, feel relief, like I didn't expect that I would get through. Like the pass was a fraud or something.

Tobias's office comes up. I feel strange knocking on it, like I'm disturbing him, even though he called for me. My hand drops and a minute passes before there's an answer.

"Come in."

My hand finds the doorknob. I enter.

It's a plain office. A few sets of drawers, papers everywhere. A laptop on the dark desk with two chairs, one on either side. A window with shades. A whiteboard with a black marker and a few pens laying around. It's strange, seeing it so dirty. I would have thought the military personnel would be cleaner than this. Somehow I like this better, though. Like he isn't so conformed to the military that he leaves it like this when the other sergeants aren't around.

He's sitting in his desk, says for me to close the door. I lean against it until the click tells me its completely closed. My eyes never leave him, though. For some reason I don't want him out of my sight. I feel wary about this entire thing. Wonder if this is a set up.

Tobias doesn't look like this is a set up as he says, "At ease, Prior." He waves his hand and I come forward. He bends and brings up an M4 Carbine. It's intact and sleek and I hate the sight of it.

"Listen and watch," he says quietly. He looks up from the gun and says, "Make sure your chamber is empty. Last thing we need is bullets flying out. Take out these two pins," and he takes the barrel, he calls it, off the trigger and the rest of the gun. He starts sliding out part of the chamber, and looks up and silently tells me to lean closer.

I lean closer over the desk, my arms folded over my chest, wary of the air that we're both breathing in, how hot it is in this tiny room.

He goes on to explain how he is just showing how to take it apart and put it back together. "We'll get to the cleaning and repairing in class soon," he says.

"Why don't you teach that along with assembling and disassembling the gun?" I say.

He looks at me straight on then. "Our system is different. Our sergeants do it the way they want to. As long as the troops are fit for fighting, they let us do what we want."

"So you're teaching me the way you want to teach me?" I say.

"During classes I follow what Eric wants. He's a leader above me. But here," he looks at the gun, at his fine, tan hands, "I'm teaching you the way I want to. The way that allows you to understand this. Okay?"

I nod, and the lesson continues for the next half hour. It should be shorter, but somehow he starts talking and never really stops, which is strange. He barely talks. He's the quiet one, but here, just with me and a gun in the room, he talks about the gun like he's memorized this speech and has wanted to tell someone about it. I listen, but only to his voice. Because I really don't care about the technics of a gun.

Finally he snaps his mouth shut and looks like he's chastising himself for talking too much. He folds his arms and waves to the gun. "Try it."

I plant my hands on the desk, look intently at the gun. And something clicks within me. I won't fail. I won't let myself fail when his eyes are on me and I've been watching him with this gun for so long. This is my chance, and I will take it. I won't have this machine rule over me.

I have the pieces in my hands and I internally panic only for a second as the image of it fills my mind's eye, like a blueprint. I flip it around, making it clatter and make so many clicking noises.

And it comes together. My hands, cool and not sweaty, drop, and before us is the gun, assembled back to its former state.

I look up to Tobias, dare to look for a reaction. He doesn't say a word. Doesn't yell, doesn't smile. He just nods, says, "That's all you needed. A little patience."

I let out a breath, relieved that I will no longer fail in assembling an M4 Carbine. I will know how to disassemble. I will not fall behind, and no more will Peter think he's better than me. Just the thought of his furious face at me banging out a perfectly finished product makes me want to crack my fingers from the ache they gain when I think about punching him in the face.

Tobias nods again and says, taking the gun into his arms, "You did it. You . . . can go now."

"Yes, sir," I say. I salute him and walk stiffly out.

Outside in the hall, I'm relieved. Deathly relieved. That went better than I thought it would. And for that I'm glad.

* * *

Phase II comes up next. Some people, mostly the younger sergeants, call it the White Phase. It's the Gunfighter stage to we the troops. That means actually shooting guns. Christina finds particular joy in this when she fires at a target when commanded to.

"It's easy," she says. "Just imagine the target is Peter's head."

Even with that, it's simple to me. Tobias demonstrates how to hold it, how your shoulder needs to support it, how you crouch slightly, your eyes open, your target ready before your eyes so you aren't shooting blindly.

It pushes a violent volt through my body when I shoot. A volt completely made of power, and an energy fills me. The targets are fine. The targets are still and steady objects.

Will proves that he isn't too bad of a shot, once he has the hang of it. Al can't make a mark, though. Bites his lip so much that he has a cut where his teeth dig in. It's a crack through him that makes him look like he was in a fight. Eric looks at it and laughs. "Think that makes you look tough, Capton?" Al just turns red and ignores him. He tries, but not hard enough.

* * *

There's assignments for this stage, now. The assignments are guarding the entrance and exit to our barracks. It's set for pairs of people to do it. It's usually the battle buddies doing it together.

Will and Al have done it when one morning we sit down together at breakfast. Christina watches with fascination and I watch with a light interest as Will describes what it's like.

"It's dark and quiet, so quiet that it sounds like an enemy can just come popping around any corner at anytime," he says, breaking apart a muffin with his fingers, getting crumbs all over the table.

"Cool. What do you think about it, Al?" Christina says, looking to Al.

My gaze fall on him. He keeps his eyes down and looks at the crumbs Will is making. He is a shy guy, and easily frightened. He shakes his head. I knew that he wouldn't want to talk about it. He hardly talks about the things he hates.

Christina looks away from him, changes the subject. "Why do you think this stage has three different names?"

"Lack of communication when they chose a name," Will says, making Christina smirk slightly.

"Yes, I can see it now. 'Wait, I thought we had chosen Gunfighter?' 'I thought we were doing colors?' 'I thought we were doing numbers?'" Christina laughs, but I barely pay attention. Al still has my attention, looking so sad it's pathetic.

And there's nothing I know I can do to help him. The only thing I can do is wait for him to sort himself out.

* * *

That night is Christina's and my first night as guards. Eric explains everything, looks at us with a strict look before he turns away. The lights are turned off, and Christina and I are left outside the door. Even though the room next to us is filled with bodies, alive bodies, and Eric is just a few steps away, I feel strangely alone as I look to Christina. We're supposed to keep quiet and just hold our guns, just in case we need to shoot someone. Which I highly doubt we'll do.

Christina is biting on her lip to keep herself calm. My hands are sweaty and I just suck it up, suck in a breath, and pray I don't fall asleep on the job. Falling asleep on the job is bad enough in the real world. I can only imagine it being so much worse in the military.

**YES, PRETTY FOURTRIS. BUT THE FLUFF IS STILL YET TO COME. BWUAHAHAHA. Isn't being a writer fantastic?**


	6. Sneaking Off

**Thank You, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. WARNING: FLUFF AHEAD. READ AT THE RISK OF YOUR OWN FEELS. God bless you!  
**

The next morning is exhausting. Christina has to shake me a few times once we're released into the barracks once more. It's Edward's and Myra's turn to head out for their shift, and for that I'm grateful. I don't know what time it is. I don't care. I just want to sleep.

The loud voice of Eric fills the room. I don't know for how long I slept when I fell into my bunk, but I just know I want more. I push my pillow over my head and Lynn tugs it off and throws it away before Eric can. It's almost a mercy that she does it.

I feel like a zombie. I've heard of zombies, Will and Christina and Marlene and Uriah eagerly describing them to me. I feel like falling down and then I see Tobias across the dining hall at breakfast. He is looking straight at me, a flicker of something in his eyes that disappears once he turns away to talk to Lauren. I have a sudden feeling that he is annoyed with me, and I burn and want to know why.

He comes over to our table once we're done and says angrily, "Soldiers, hurry up. You're late, move, move, move, move!"

Everyone looks at everyone else and hurry to obey him, though confused as to why he's like that. I move slowly, watching him as he watches everyone else.

"Did I not repeat myself more than once, Soldier Prior?" he says coldly.

I try to shake it off. I try to cast away his eyes from my mind as I salute him and walk away. The image stirs away, replaced by the bitter hot anger that causes tears, making me even more angry. I shouldn't be crying just because I'm being yelled at once more. But I can't stop. They don't run down. I won't let my tears be seen. But they don't go away.

I get out my aggression when we're to fire at targets. Usually I hit them the majority of the time. Now I get every single one. I'm sure Peter's jealous. Christina surprised. I'm so angry I want to cause a stir.

I load another magazine, pump it out. The jolts rolling through my body are going to make me sore. I don't care.

My mind is boiling, my eyes focused on the target. I get it, a jolt back. And I feels someone behind me. Someone whose presence I know. I can't tell him to go away. I brace myself, looking at the target, for a yell to echo in my ear, for my body to receive another blow.

Instead I hear, "Every target, Tris. You've got them all." I dare to turn and look over my shoulder. Tobias is over Will now, ordering him to straighten and spread his legs, his voice cold and hard as it should be. But his voice to me was soft. Reassuring. Tender.

And it's not an apology, but I shouldn't expect one from him. Not from someone of his status. He shouldn't be expected to say sorry to some recruit.

But suddenly I feel a sense of relief, and my shooting stops.

* * *

The rest of the day goes by quickly. Peter is focusing on my back as we walk back to the barracks tonight. I didn't get called back after mail call. Surprisingly, Peter didn't either. He was about to get into a fist fight earlier with Will, but that had broken up.

I wish that I was called back, though. Maybe then I would have gotten to talk to Tobias, ask about how his moods so quickly switched. But he wasn't at dinner, and Eric was watching us the entire time - my table. And so now I think it was for the best.

"Didn't get to see your boyfriend tonight, did you, Stiff?" Peter says. I stiffen, turn to him. He's with Molly, looking smirky and calm as can be.

Christina turns with me. "As if she'd be messing around with Eric, brainless."

I think I should be turning red, but the lie doesn't even bother me as Peter says, scowling now, "You know what I mean, Stiff. Sergeant Eaton. You're constantly checking him out. It's against the rules, you know. Besides," he tilts his head, "how would any guy want you? You're a shrimp. You resemble a little boy more than even Negra does here."

Christina's about to pounce on him at that, and I don't want to stop her. But she just tightens her hands into fists, ready to pull a punch if she doesn't control herself as well as she thinks she can. But she'd rather have Peter thrown out than herself. So she doesn't. Waits for him to start it.

"You're saying you've got a girlfriend, then, Peter?" I say calmly. "Funny. I thought Molly looked to be more in pain than usual."

"I ain't his boyfriend-" Molly begins to say. Peter doesn't say a word, though. Just smirks.

"Can't even lay an ugly one? That's just sad, Peter," I say slyly, and then I turn and head off with my head as high as I can get it.

Christina follows me to our bunk bed and my cheeks are definitely burning now.

"That son of a bitch," Christina says.

"Don't think about it," Will says quietly.

"What? The name or punching him? 'Cause they're all I can think about," Christina says with the biggest smile she has ever given anyone before she drops it. "Why can't it be legal to punch the living daylights out of someone?"

Will sits next to her and they begin to talk, so I scramble up to Christina's bunk for a bit. I tuck my legs to myself and hug them to me. My head is on its side as I lean against my kneecaps. Was that a victory for me or Peter? He had struck low, but so did I. But that comment about Christina makes me burn.

And that comment about Tobias I try not to think about.

* * *

The days pass slowly. There's nothing more to do but do everything like a robot, like a well-oiled machine. I'm not struggling too much in the courses now. Still, soreness covers me, but it almost disappears when I see Tobias glancing my way. He has these eyes that make me stop in the middle of walking and stand there like an idiot, making Christina shake her head to herself and move me along before Eric can notice.

One day, though, I get called at mail call to speak with him. I don't know why. I haven't done anything out of the ordinary for days. I've been rather tame.

Still, I'm looking at the talk not as a loss. Tobias hasn't talked to me since that day at the shooting range. Eric is constantly looking at me. Maybe that's a reason.

"Come with me," he says.

I wasn't expecting that.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Tonight you and Soldier Argo are in the shift to guard." Christina and I. I know. "I am going to be the sergeant watching. I will need you to help me with something. So remember," he says.

I'm too stunned to say anything but our meeting is over and I salute him, turning stiffly back and making my way to the barracks with a foggy head. I have no idea what he has to say or do with me that can't be explained to me right there.

"Okay, what'd he want?" Christina whispers immediately when I'm back.

"I'm-I'm - he gave me tips about moving faster," I say quickly. Too quickly, too much stumbling. And Christina knows it.

"Come on," she says coaxingly. She pats the seat next to me. "Tell me all."

There's little point in withholding much from her. The two of us will leave her when we're in the halls. She can at least know what I know.

She lets out a very loud squeal when I spill.

"This - I know where this is going," she says excitedly. She pushes my shoulder slightly, saying, "Lucky, aren't we?"

I have absolutely no idea what she is talking about. Maybe it's the sheltered, quiet home life I've had, but this is making sense to her and not to me.

"What do you mean?" I wonder.

"Oh, innocent, innocent Tris," Christina says. She rolls her eyes and whispers, "He likes you."

Likes me. Somehow, the meaning behind that makes sense to me, and I shake my head. "No. No. He can't. It's against the rules and he follows the rules."

"But he also breaks them," Christina points out.

I open my mouth and then close it. Didn't he teach me in private? Talk to me a lot? I wasn't assigned to talk with Eric or Lauren at all. Just him. Was that on purpose? Did he ask to talk to me? All that time . . .

Christina looks like she's about to cry from happiness. "This is going to be great."

I look down, my heart pounding. Is Christina just assuming or not? That's the real question here. I should attempt nothing, though. Nothing out of the ordinary. If he wants to do something, talk about something, he is going to have to initiate it. With my position and rank, it'd be better for me not to do something wrong that he isn't expecting.

* * *

The evening comes and goes. I listen but don't absorb. Uriah and Lynn and Marlene poke fun at each other. Will laughs with Christina, who sends me secret glances every so often. Al looks to me when she does that, like he can tell what she's trying to convey to me. But he can't. I can't; how can he?

Eric calls for lights out, stalking down the line of bunks. People shift and move things around. He stops at my bed and I continue with tying my shoes on and standing in front of him next to Christina, our chests up, shoulders back, feet slightly apart, saluting.

"Get on to guard duty," he says, and we follow him out to the hall.

"They're all yours," he says to Tobias, who is just outside the door.

Tobias nods and Eric walks off, his step slightly limping. It's strange; I wonder how he got that.

Our guns are in our hands. The lights are switched off, some twitching before they're gone.

An hour must pass, the three of us working quietly together. I'm sent on an errand. I come back from checking the outer doors and a half hour passes. I have to keep giving Christina warning looks. She tries to stay calm, but this is too much for her. But she keeps her lips sealed and her eyes down when she thinks Tobias is watching her.

But he doesn't look at either of us. He stares at the wall blankly, like it's boring but has more for him to focus on than us.

And then he turns to us. No. Me. Barely looks at Christina but focuses on me, on my eyes, as he says, "Soldier Prior. Follow me."

I walk behind him, glancing back only to see Christina smirking to herself as she leans against the wall.

I turn back and watch Tobias's back as he walks. He has his official clothes on, the green and dark green and faded green blending in the dark.

He turns a corner and we're in a perpendicular hall. The halls run to our left and our right. It's dark, and it feels hollow, with no guards around this particular area.

He turns to me after a moment of me staring at his back. There must be a light somewhere. I can see all of his face. How his eyebrows stand out on his face, how his nose is slightly hooked, his chin smooth, and his eyes. His eyes are a wonderful blue. I never pay attention to other people's eyes, but his beg for attention. My attention.

He moves his gun so that its around his back instead of in his hand. He sighs and looks away for a moment before turning to me. His voice is barely a whisper but low, low as he says, "Soldier Prior, would you like to leave?"

I shake my head, raise an eyebrow. "No, sir."

"Are you sure?" he says. He doesn't sound like he's begging. It's like he's giving me a choice.

And I choose the one I want.

"Yes, sir," I say.

"Okay," he says quietly, looks away at the tiled floor. I cock my head, let out a breath. He wants to tell me something. It's that now. Christina was right, he has something to tell me.

He looks up and says, "I've been watching you . . . Tris."

That's not creepy at all. Of course not. But I know what he means. "During training, sir?" I say. I've been watching him too.

"Yes. You've caught my interest," he says.

I don't know if that is a good thing or not. But the air around us doesn't feel dangerous. It feels like we have to hide or people will get us, yell at us, for what we're doing.

He takes a step forward, looks to my face to see my reaction. I don't move. I'm not scared of him. Wary of his gaze, maybe, but I've got a gun. A loaded one. And I don't think I'll be needing it on him. He's been so calm, too genuinely nice to me in this godforsaken fort to do anything to me now.

"I've been wondering about that," I say.

He actually smiles. I've never seen him smile before. Like he grew up in a strict home and didn't know how to smile. But he does, and it looks warm on him, a gleam of white teeth shining through before he quirks his mouth into a strange shape.

"It's because I like you," he whispers. His voice has lost all sense of amusement. It's serious, not dark but firm, like he wants me to know it. He takes another step forward.

Time has stopped around us. There's no Christina talking excitedly in my head now. There's just us, and my thoughts are filled with him. How his shoes are scuffed at the ends. How his hands are bronze and one hesitates to touch mine.

Somehow, calmly, I reach out my hand from holding my gun to his hand. I don't look at his face, just at our hands. They're joined together like they're meant to be together.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" he wonders.

"You just did." I talk for the first time in a while. I just found my voice.

"Do you mind if I do what I have wanted to do for a long time?" he says.

"That depends," I say, "on what that is."

His other hand comes around and gently grips my chin. Raises my head. "I want to kiss you."

I stare back into his eyes. Something lightens me, something bright, and I say, "And what's holding you back?"

His lips find mine somehow in the darkness.

They're warmer than I would have thought. Soft, filled with body heat. And I've never experienced a boy's lips against mine. If my parents knew about this, I'd be changed in their eyes.

But now I forget about what their reactions would be and focus on what is happening to me now. How my breath is caught and my body is frozen but slowly melting as the reality of what is happening to me crashes down.

Somehow my hand reaches out and grasps his arm, needing him to hold me steady. Needing him closer to me.

He slips away from me slowly. His lips stop applying pressure and he moves them away; he whispers, his lips barely on mine, "How was that?"

How was that? A number of adjectives fly through my brain, my mind barely able to process their meanings.

"Wonderful," I manage to fumble out. I mentally kick myself.

The hand that was grasping my chin goes down and rubs gently against my arm, a calming gesture. "That's good," he murmurs.

His fingers against my skin seem to catch me on fire. It's strange, never being noticed by a boy before, for him to rub my arm soothingly, how I never knew that such a simple touch could turn my heart to pounding and my tongue to sandpaper.

"What now?" I whisper.

"That depends," Tobias says. "About how that felt to you. How you feel for me. And whether you're willing to break a few rules or just go along and become a soldier as planned."

I look up and meet his eyes then. I realize I don't want to be a soldier as planned. I don't want him being the teacher, the corrector with his dark blue eyes that can never look at me with that longing look anymore. How he would have to yell at me and not talk to me so much. Have to treat me the same as everyone else.

"I can break a few rules," I say. My voice sounds strong to my ears.

He leans his forehead against mine. His hand reaches my wrist and then grips my hand like it's safety to him. He lets out a breath and said, "I'd like that."

**:)**


	7. Oh, Caleb and Marcus are Introduced

**Thank You, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. FOURTRIS FLUFF  
**

Christina doesn't say anything when we get back. I'm stiff-backed. He is walking in front of me. When he turns, he keeps his eyes trained on the wall opposite him.

Christina bumps me with her arm. I give her the slightest nod of my head, wanting her to calm down before she goes crazy.

She nods and the next hour passes before another pair comes along and we're sent back into the dark barracks for our few hours of sleep.

I slip into bed and bury myself into my pillow and blankets, reliving everything in my mind. I feel like I should be blushing, but there's no blush. I gently touch my lips with two of my fingers. I can practically feel him against me, how he could turn my face warm with a single touch, how he tasted nice.

I miss the feeling I had when he was with me. It's fading with him not actually being there. I want it back. Because along with that feeling, I like him, and I wish there wasn't such rules around here.

The next morning at breakfast, while we're away from the line as quickly as we can. we walk to our usual breakfast table. I can barely move, except for an energy inside of me that I can't explain. That fills me and suddenly makes me smile, or frown.

Christina takes her seat and I take mine and she just stares at me for a moment. She is hungry for details, that's for certain.

I look around. The sergeants are nowhere to be seen. Our usual occupants to this table are in line still. Christina practically knows already. Might as well indulge her.

I turn back to her, take a deep breath. My muscles feel tense. My voice speaks out, cracked and stiff and disjointed, "We . . . we went down a hall and we talked."

"And that's all that happened?" Christina says gently, with a teasing look on her face.

I look down, a quirky smile coming onto my face. It feels out of place but like it also belongs.

"He kissed you, didn't he?" Christina leans in, her voice barely above a whisper, excited.

I nod. She lets out a sigh, of relief, probably, and leans back, her hands on the bench, her face lit up with her bright white smile.

"And what have you to say about this?" she says in a teasing little voice.

A smile comes onto my face. "I really like it." I straighten. Sound serious. "You're the only one who can know. If someone else knew, another recruit, they'd think he'd show favoritism to me and I'd never be able to do anything normally. Or Eric. He can't know."

"For that exact reason," Christina says, nodding.

"None of the boys or Marlene or Lynn. Just the three of us," I say seriously.

She nods, looks delighted. It must be nice for her to be in on such a secret that one word can slip and ruin everything. My military life. My regular life.

She gives me a little kick to the knee under the table, so no one can see.

"Congratulations, Miss Taken," she says.

I smile and look at the ground.

When my eyes look up, they find Tobias's in the crowd. They share a look, one that's forever imbedded into my brain, and he gives me the slightest of smiles before he turns back to Eric, who wants his attention.

A week passes. It speeds by, something that hasn't happened in all of my training here. That's what happens when you're so busy time flies.

We're introduced to new things in our training. Besides our classes and the demanding obstacle courses that I'm slowly working on, there's the hand grenades to get to know. The machine guns. The heavy metal weapons. The ones that sink in my hands, the ones that I have to brace to hold. But they almost are lighter than they used to be. My arms show a case that says I might have muscles. Christina is always pointing this out, saying, "Hey, boys like strong girls."

Let's hope so. Tobias seems to, though, like me as I am. He always is giving me glances, his eyes meeting mine and his smile only for me. That's when he smiles. Just with me. The rest of the time he is solidly dark, cool, stony.

We find time in empty corridors, having stolen kisses, warm hugs. Whispers. I'm nervous, from never having been with a boy before, never mind having been in a secret relationship with a military drill sergeant. I'm more alert to people coming to find us, though Christina knows her job. She is a lookout, distracting any sergeants that come to our barracks wondering where we are.

She's like a sister in that way. And for her, I'm thankful.

I catch myself looking at Tobias a lot more. Even when he isn't looking at me, I watch him, feel myself smile when I see him. Will and Al think I'm acting weird, strange. But I don't care. Can't help that he commands my attention all the time.

He's nice, that's for certain. He's not as jerky as he can be perceived. He is actually really quiet, his voice always strong but occasionally questioning, like he's afraid of my answer to things. But always, when he holds me to him, I feel safe. So safe in his arms. Safe and also scared. Not of him but of his touches, of he is able to make me feel like he is the thing I need. Like I can't go a day without seeing him. It's scary; it makes my heart palpitate, like I'm scared of kissing him, but I also want to kiss him. I'm torn every time I kiss him.

Sometimes I try kissing him harder, try to see if I can overwhelming the feeling of panicking, but it still is there, as relevant as ever.

It's week four. Technically. But I feel like I've been here for more than a month. I feel that when mail call comes and Lauren passes me two letters from home. I haven't gotten any from home since the first one. I look at them and feel like I'm going to cry.

There's no talk for me tonight. No advice. Tobias is the one always delivering me 'advice.' But Eric watches us, thinking that either I'm a really weak recruit that shouldn't carry on like I should, or that Tobias likes me. To throw him off, I only talk to him like this twice a week. I like forward to them each time, but tonight is one, and he approaches me.

He notices the letters, sees the return addressee has the same last name as I do. He clears his throat and whispers so his lips barely move, "Skip tonight. Read those," and he walks away.

I feel grateful as I hug them to my chest and hurry back after Christina to our quarters.

She doesn't have any letters, so she looks over the first after I've read it and am reading the second one. I put my hand to my mouth, but no tears come to my eyes.

The first is from my mother. Calm, touching, soft, wondering, telling of how life is for her and dad at the moment. How they're doing community service and volunteering and how Dad's job is going. How she is happy that I'm doing well. How she hopes that I'm not having too much of a bad time.

The second one is a surprise. One from Caleb. He's in college, a couple years older than me, and Dad is far more proud of his choice to do that. Not so appreciative toward my choice.

He writes about his college, his classes, his classmates, a professor he considers himself a prodigy under, someone named Jeanine. He writes about himself for the whole page and I have to turn it over before I get to a part of him talking to me and not writing an autobiography.

"Still, college is the challenge I expected it to be. I guess you know what I mean by a challenge, Beatrice: I hear the army is very tough, with testing your endurance, strength and stamina. You're learning to survive.

"I'll see you, then, at your graduation ceremony. My first year will be over in a few weeks. Isn't that great? Wish me luck on the finals!

"Your brother, Caleb."

I look up from the letter, feeling a sudden burning rage. Confusion fills me as I smack the letter down beside me, making Christina look up from my other one.

"What'd he do?" Christina wonders.

"Lists his life and then barely bothers to address who he's writing to," I say.

She reads the letter, frowns at the end.

"Brothers, huh?" she says as she puts it down.

She wouldn't know. All she has is sisters.

But I just nod, just to acknowledge her.

I lay on my bed that night, not getting to go on a watch. The shifts, will decreasing my amount of sleep, make me happy. It's the only time I get to spend time with Tobias. Stolen time.

The sheets feel like nothing against me. I play with a bit of my hair as I mutter no words to myself, feeling myself grow angrier with Caleb. He doesn't have to be like that. Act like he's a know-it-all and he's more important than I am.

He didn't use to be like this. He was always so calm, so selfless that it put me to shame. But as his college acceptance letters came in the mail and our parents started patting him on the back, giving him proud smiles, and he took it to heart. Or maybe he was always a bit of a scholar. He just didn't let us know until later.

I went with my parents to drop him off at college. He had been so wrapped up in returning to his nerd friends that he had only given me an absentminded kiss on the forehead before turning away. It hurt then, but not as much as now, as I look back on it.

I turn on my side and see the corners of my letters folded in my personal belongings. I touch them tentatively with my fingers. They crinkle under my weight.

My hand falls away, my mind telling me that the papers still contain the same words that I had read just a bit ago.

It would be nice if they were different, though.

We're behind sand bags. Our feet are pressed against the ground, the dead grass held in by the gate around us, holding us in.

Against Al's shoulder is a machine gun. It's set up against the bags, aimed at a target several yards away from us.

A call is roared, and the gun bucks against his body, making him let out a heavy sigh as Eric says, "You missed, Capton. Fire again, come on, hurry up!"

I'm freezing. It's a cold morning, my arms around my torso, but Al is red and sweating everywhere. Eric calls him out on that. He sweats even more, darting past his forehead with his sleeve.

"Capton, hurry move! Let's move along, before we get old!" Eric says. Christina lets out a sigh. It's too early to hear Eric's angry, gleeful voice. He takes delight in yelling at us. It fits his bad boy persona, from his thick black boots to his sheared dark black hair to the piercings he has through his lips.

He walks up to Al, who is nervously loading another magazine, and leans close and says in a quiet voice, "Defying me, are you, Capton?"

Al doesn't talk back. He never does. He hates the yelling, the screaming, that seem unnecessary to him. But Eric shouts at him against, backing away as Al trembles with the sweat.

"Fire, Capton," Eric says. His voice sounds greasy, slick. "And don't miss. Don't you dare miss."

Al lets out a breath. A shot flies and hits the edge of the target.

Eric cocks his head. "Get away, Capton. Until you learn to at least aim, you shouldn't be using such an expensive, big machine like that. Go to the M4s again. Come back when you can learn not to wet yourself."

Al stands up, his face pink, and walks past Christina and I. Doesn't even meet our eyes. Too embarassed that we saw his humiliation.

But we see it every day. And we just stand by and watch. It's too much of a risk to have Eric on your back, and you'll have him on you if you talk back to him like I wish I could.

"Prior, to the gun, let's MOVE IT, SOLDIER," Eric says, walking past me and jutting a thumb to the gun.

Christina puts a hand on my shoulder. I straighten and walk to the sand bags. My pants get dirty as I kneel on the ground, position the gun against my shoulder. It feels heavy against me. I hold it steady, keep my eyes open as I set it to aim. Tobias told me to keep my eyes open. Only when holding a gun, though.

Locked in, I shoot.

The shot isn't the greatest. It hurts near the center, but not so close that I feel relieved.

"Pick it UP, PRIOR," Eric says, sounding annoyed that I didn't do it to his standards.

I let out a breath and aim once more. Another shot. Still, about the same distance.

"PRIOR," Eric says. "Look at me."

I sigh and turn to him with a resolutely blank face.

"Don't be Capton, Prior," Eric says maliciously. "He's going to fail this course. Don't do that. I don't suggest it."

I see someone behind him. He taps Eric on the shoulder, makes him turn.

"My turn with this group, Eric," Tobias says. He doesn't meet my eyes, but I can just tell they're cold.

"Says who?" Eric wants to know, cracking a smile.

"Commander Eaton, sir," Tobias says quietly.

"Daddy, huh?" Eric shakes his head and walks away, shooting me an amused look as he disappears to another sand bag settlement.

Tobias glares after him. Daddy? Tobias's father. I just have connected the names before this. Marcus Eaton. He has to be Tobias's father. And yet he never mentioned that. He must have thought that I already knew.

We had first been introduced to Commander Marcus Eaton on Day 1. He had been tall, with greying, thin hair. His stature was strong and military strict, his eyes hard and cold, but his voice firm and serious, almost calm to a certain degree. He might have been trying to be nice, but he disturbed me. He wasn't supposed to be like that, like we were all going to be good friends after some training. No.

Tobias talks to a few soldiers but then comes up to me. I'm looking away from him, concentrating on the target ahead of me that I need to hit directly.

I didn't expect him to stoop down next to me and say quietly, "Relax a little. Being rigid isn't going to help you; it just makes you anxious."

My muscles relax and my eyes look around us frantically, but everybody is concentrating on their targets or are talking to each other while the drill sergeants aren't looking.

"We in the clear?" he says, his voice surprisingly light.

"You're not supposed to be so close to me in public," I remind him.

He isn't so worried as I am, though. "I know. Now, eyes open, and shoot. Now." He stands up, his hand brushing against my hand and arm, which is bare, as I am wearing a tank.

His touch tingles against my skin in the heat as I fire. The bullet hits the center, maybe half an inch off.

"Gotta be better than that, Prior," he says loudly, but his yelling isn't harsh. It's just there to let people know that he is still yelling at me, just as he should be.

Still, he and I manage to share a secret smile before he walks down the line. I look around the line and catch sight of Peter looking at me. His eyebrows are caught in a line, his lips in a frown.

"Prior!" Tobias yells, his voice harsh now. I swivel to see him glancing merely a second at Peter before turning to me and saying, "Move along, your turn is done! Stop hogging and move!"

I do so gladly. When I look back to Peter, he is shaking his head and pumping his target full of bullets.

**He he he. Please review!**


	8. Obstacle Course and ANGST

**Thank You, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. LOOKIE LOOKIE MILITARY STUFF. Indeed. OH, and I changed Marcus from being a sergeant to being a commander.  
**

"One, two, three, one, two, three," Tobias says in a voice that is loud but not yelling. He is looking out at us, stretching as he wants us to.

I let out a deep breath as others chant the numbers as well, using them as a tool, and stretch my arms as far from me as I can, swinging them around in a circle slightly. They pull but I don't stop.

Next to me is Christina, doing the same. So is Al. Will. Marlene. Lynn. Uriah and Peter and Molly. We're all part of a company.

It's a warm morning, but we're all wearing soft hats, our shirts and pants. Solid shoes. Al had to remove his belt and tighten his pants and Christina had to remove her earrings. None of those are allowed on the confidence course.

The confidence course is basically an obstacle course. Only this time, we're going to have to be timed; but no penalties or going in teams. I was always the second or third to finish each course in our team. Sometimes I made a first. After I was given advice by Tobias, though.

But now we're all on our own. There's no competition, but Al looks worriedly at the course still as the mats are brought out. He is all by himself, not having either Will or Christina or me to bring us back.

I straighten, put my arms in front of me and crack my knuckles. The crack is satisfying.

We're called to file into a line and we're going to go one at a time. This is going to take up a lot of the morning, but this gives us time to think and get anxious over our times that we're going to make. Our performances still have an effect, and that's all that can race in my mind as I watch Will take to the course.

He isn't so good on the ropes as he is on climbing the wall and sliding in the mud. Christina sucks in a breath as she thinks of having to get covered in mud and Al is looking up to the sky like it has all the answers.

Tobias calls for us to call out, and it's almost like we're all chanting. We can't stop, telling him to come on, to not fall, to hurry up, get along. Tobias is wearing a green T-shirt with his stark tan hat and is circling the obstacles as Will goes on them and then Tobias comes around us, calling for us to keep doing it, keep calling. He barely meets eyes with me, but I keep my eyes up and concentrate on Will.

He finishes and Tobias comes around to us, calling Christina out to go. She takes a deep breath and runs, runs as fast as she can. The faster she can get through this, the better.

Sweat is trickling down my back, matting my blonde hair, gathering in my palms. I quickly remove my hat and adjust it back to my head, feeling restless as our company moves so we can see Christina try to get over the fence.

She does and within a minute is done, panting violently, her face ashen, like she wants to throw up.

"Prior, get on," Tobias says, pointing a thumb to the obstacle course. I let out a breath, my hands forming into fists, and I burst into a run. I'm going to do this, and I'm not going to fail. Not in front of Peter. Not in front of Tobias. I won't.

The ropes are first. I catch one, and I pull myself up, my hands burning against the blistery feel of the rope. No splinters yet. That's good.

This is one of those times where I'm happy about weighing so little. I only have to pull up a bit more than a hundred pounds. I hate to think how much Al has to pull up. He doesn't have the best upper body strength.

I land and then the wall. I scale it, climbing up it like a squirrel. It isn't that hard. I'm not too bad on scaling this.

I suffer at the hurdle, hear the yells at me as I jump. My legs aren't long enough. But I don't stop. I make it through.

Zig zag. The tunnel. The fence. I tear my shirt on the arm, but I'm not sure if there's going to be some penalty for me for that.

My breath is short now. My lungs feel like they're burning. My ears ring with yells. I try to catch the distinct voices. Hear Christina's shrieking, hurrying voice. Will's helpful yell. Al's deep voice. Marlene's and Uriah's and Lynn's voices mix so I can't tell who's yelling amongst the three of them.

I climb the cargo net, my feet momentarily caught on the rope. I try to pull them out from the loops, and both feet fall out of them, leaving me holding onto the rope with only my hands.

Things grow loud for me. I can barely think as my legs dangle in mid-air. I let out a breath and kick, trying to find a rope without looking. I'm not afraid of heights, but I don't want to see the soldiers, don't want to see the activity going on below me.

My left foot finds a hold. I use it as a rest as my other finds another. My chest fills with breath and I move on ahead.

I descend down the net and then there's the last obstacle. The one thing between me and the finish line. The parallel bars.

My hands feel slippery on them. I hear Tobias's voice, cold and professional, like he's a gym teacher and I'm a student holding up the rest of the line.

"Come on, Prior, move it, let's go, move move move move move!" he yells, and he flashes me a look that I catch somehow. It's one that's bright, interested, wondering.

He knows that I can do this. He just wants me to do it. I need to apply myself to it, and I will. Not. Fail.

I swing through, not even thinking, but my head is filled with one thing. Determination. And my head hurts from the way I'm squeezing muscles and I know I'm going to be sore tomorrow but I don't care, because I will prove that I can do this. That this is a challenge that I can conqueror. I will not let out a stationary object be the defeat of me. That just won't happen.

I'm at the end. My feet find the ground, and I run to the finish line, my arms bent into 90 degree angles at my sides.

There's nothing better than crossing the finish line. I bring myself to a stop and Christina gives me an acknowledging nod of her head, but she is still recovering.

But I stand up straight and look to see that Al's turn has come up. And I see that obstacle course that he is attempting, and I realize I'm done. I'm done with that. I didn't fail.

I may have been slow, but I won. I definitely won.

* * *

"You did really well during the confidence course today," Tobias says quietly. He's leaning against the wall next to me. I have to look up at him just to face him. But I don't mind.

I nod. "I didn't do too bad."

Tobias nods, looks at the wall opposite him. "I found something."

"About what?" I say, curious.

He turns to me. "About you. I find something new about you every time I see you. Every time I'm with you."

"And what did you find out today?" I say, giving him a smile.

"Pressure makes you more determined. Routine things don't wake you up. You're used to them. But something different, something that tests you in a way that it hadn't before, that's when you get determined. That's when you really perform. When you're faced with something challenging, you face it head on. You're not afraid," he says.

I glance away from him, watch his neck instead of meeting his face. It's strange, having a boy compliment me. And in that way; it's nice.

"How did you ever notice me, at first?" I say, looking to him.

He shrugs, looks away at me. Sometimes I feel like he thinks more than he says aloud to me, like he's afraid to say some things.

I put a hand on his shoulder. I touch him like this, and he doesn't shrug away from me. It's strange, how he allows me to touch him like this when he's supposed to be my instructor. But things happen when you break the rules. You can do things you weren't supposed to before. And he always looks at me with a sort of fondness that I had never seen before when I do stuff like that. I suppose it's because he's the one who had this idea, who had the feelings for me first, that he's surprised that I recuperate the feelings. Because he has grown on me. Because I know that every morning I look for him in the dining hall, that I need to see that he's there. And he's handsome, and his smile is capturing, and I love the way he looks down when he talks, or away, because he needs something to look at and concentrate on. Or when he taps his fingers against his wrist because it's a nervous habit. And I love the way he says my name and is awfully gentle. How he touches my cheek with the back of his hand and looks relieved that I'm even there.

I clear my throat. "Who is Commander Eaton?"

"I'm a drill sergeant, Tris," Tobias says, his voice low.

"Not you, Tobias. Your father." It's strange how I used to be so fearful of saying something that would cross boundary lines. But now I say anything that comes to mind and I'm not afraid.

Tobias lets out a sigh, looks away. That is endearing most of the time, but now I want him to look at me. Christina says you call tell if someone is lying by their body language. I want to see if he is going to lie.

"What about him?" Tobias says.

"You didn't tell me your father was here," I say.

"That's because he's not here," Tobias says.

I frown. "I thought he was here on the first day."

"The first day is long gone, Tris. He's been busy. Gone." He whispers under his breath, nearly mutters it, "Good riddance."

"You don't like your father?" I say, surprised. While my father has always been trying to get me to be a better person, I've never hated him. He's been trying to get me ready in my youth for life ahead of me. Only, life ahead of me is more surprising and dangerous than he ever told me.

"We . . ." he lets out a wry chuckle. Nothing here is funny. "We don't get along. He's the reason I joined the military, though. To see if I could do what he did, and not turn out like he did. He was such a drill sergeant at home. My entire childhood . . . was like a personal hell."

"He was strict?" I say.

"More than that." He shakes his head. "Traumatizing. And he knew that. He knew what he did to me struck me to the core, and he did that anyway."

A moment passes. "He was very big on discipline. So big. He . . . had crossed too many lines, at some point."

In the black, shadowy light, I can see sweat gathering at his forehead and neck. His fingers are curling in and out, and he looks at the ground. His Adam's apple rises and falls quickly.

I'm instantly alarmed, never having seen Tobias like this. It's strange, and scaring me. And I never thought I'd be scared for him now, especially since I barely even know what had happened that makes him so scared. But it's big. Definitely big.

I put a hand on either of his shoulders. He flinches slightly but realizes it is me. I push him down until he is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall.

"Can-can I get you something?" I say. I feel out of my element here. He has closed his eyes and is covering them with the heels of his hands. He takes them off and looks ahead, and I can see his eyes are slowly turning bloodshot.

"No." He shakes his head. After a moment he turns to me and says, "With Marcus, everyone looks to him as a leader. Someone good. He has an image of goodness, one that he uses to lie to people. Don't ever look at him as a good person, Tris, because there is nothing he has ever done that has been good."

After a moment, I find my voice. "There has to be some good in people, even if it's just a little." I bite my lip in thought. "He had you."

Tobias turns his head to me and whispers, almost to himself, "And is that really such a good thing?"

**ANGST. Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	9. AL NOOOOO

**Thank You, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. HERE WE GOOOOOOOO!**

The days pass slowly after that. Tobias's words are stuck in a thought in my head all the time, pounding through, and I wish I could turn back time and make him realize that he is good. But all I can remember is how I had just dumbly stared at him, too startled to say anything.

He's been distant lately. More so than usual. It's harder to catch his eye across the dining hall now, to see him look straight at me during mail call. He doesn't call me out to talk to me now. Will thinks this is a good thing.

"That means you don't need as much help as usual," he said.

Christina only shook her head. I didn't tell her what Tobias had said, and she didn't ask about it. So we don't say anything.

* * *

I'm in class, sitting up straight, finishing the last questions on my quiz. It's about orders, this one is, and I nearly forget one, but manage to slip it in as time is up.

Our classes include quizzes, history, training, educating, and how our graduation is going to go. It's coming up in a couple of weeks, and Lauren, who teaches our company, is making sure we're ready for it. We've got formations to make, speeches to listen to, and processions to make. The military always loves making things complicated and scheduled and uniformed. It's part of their code.

Our quizzes are taken up front and we're heading out to lunch when I hear someone clearing their throat. "Tris?"

I turn. It's Al, his shoulders slumped and one of his hands scratching at the back of his neck. He looks more shy than usual, which is strange, even for him.

"Hey, Al," I say. "Heading off to lunch?"

He lets out a laugh. "Yeah, I have to."

But he doesn't look like he wants to. That is weird. Al is always one of the first in line at the dining hall.

"Let's go there before Eric finds us and starts yelling at us," I say, nodding my head towards the dining hall.

He looks away for a moment, saying, "Yeah," quietly, and then he turns back to me and says, "can-can I talk to you about something, Tris?"

I look at him, confused. "About what, Al?"

"Um," he says, scratching the back of his neck again. He looks away and lets out a snarl, like an annoyed growl of a wild animal, and then says to me, "Tris . . . I like you."

I stare at him mutely. I wasn't expecting that.

He lets out a noise, something between a groan and a hiss. He meets my eyes, and I just stare at him. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think.

Obviously telling him about Tobias and I cannot happen. He'll rat us out; if he doesn't, though, because Al is not one to talk a lot, it'll get out. Someone will know. The more people know, the more potential for failure comes around.

But . . . he looks like a lost puppy. Like he needs my answer.

"I'm sorry . . . Al, but I can't," I say.

"Oh" is all he says. I bite my lip.

All he says is "Oh."

I am hoping for something more, like him stepping back and apologizing or saying that that's okay. And then maybe he'll walk away, looking hurt. But he just stands there.

I look at the ground. "It's . . . nice to hear that, Al, but I don't have the same feelings . . . for you. . ."

"And it would be unfair to you if I forced you into something?" Al stares straight at me and I don't know how to say it in other words and so I just nod.

He takes it as an answer, though. He nods and hurries away from me toward the dining hall for lunch. I look after him and then my eyes drop to my hands. They're cool. Normally they get cold and clammy when I'm inwardly freaking out. But this was calm. Because I knew what I felt. That I don't love Al, and that's it.

I share a table with Will and Christina. Al sits at another one, passes me a slight smile as he walks past me, but that's it.

"Al, come and sit with us," Christina says, waving him over.

He shakes his head and jerks his head to another one, doesn't say anything as he sits by himself.

I don't feel bad about him sitting over there. He was invited to sit with us, and he declined. I know it's because of my rejection that he doesn't want to sit near me, but he must not like me enough to sit with me anyway.

* * *

"Are you worried?" Tobias wonders one night. One of his hands in enclosing around my face, tracing around the thin edges I have. My face is made out of sharp angles. His tone is quiet yet questioning.

"About the go/no-go course?" I say. The go/no-go course is basically exams. The answers are yes or no. I let out a sigh. He's within inches of my face. One of my fingers heads up, and I tentatively touch his cheek. He doesn't flinch, but I'm scared just the same.

My fingers go over his cheekbones, ending up going through his hair, which, upon closer attention, is dark brown. "Should I be scared?"

"It's normal to be scared," he says. "But I don't expect you to be."

"Why not? I am not normal?" I say.

He shakes his head, cracks a touch of a smile. His finger touches the tip of my nose before his hand slides to my neck. His thumb presses against my shoulder, and I feel my muscles are tense there. His thumb hurts there, but in a good way, like you feel when you're sore after a long workout.

"No. You'll see it as quizzes and courses, only they're tougher, of course," Tobias says.

"I expect nothing less of the military," I say.

"I know. They push, don't they?" he says.

I think of me having to stay in the same room with Peter, who I'd rather want to take down more than an enemy. "They're merciless."

He touches his forehead to mine. "Oh, aren't they?"

He straightens and kisses the top of my head. "You're going to be okay, Tris." He gets down to look at me. His eyes are so sincere. "Believe me. Don't worry about it."

But now I am.

* * *

"Someone say a prayer on everyone's behalf," Christina says, yawning as she pulls her bed together.

"Shhh," I say, looking over my shoulder at Tobias watching other people making up their bed.

Christina sighs. "Your boyfriend will let us off. I'm just asking for providential guidance for this course."

"Shut up, Christina," I hiss, but she just brings her head back up and bangs over my head. I get off my bed and make sure everything is tucked away as it should.

I stand up straight and sigh when I'm done. The easiest part of my day is over.

Now for the exams.

Oh, hell.

There's a PT training course. There's exams. There's barely breathing, tightened fists, sweat on brows, endless silence, endless time. I sweat like a pig, my pencil slipping in my fingers, as I try to fill the little columns about what guns to use on what courses and when our instructors say to go. How the grenades we studied are to be used and what safe distance we should be at to stay from them.

My head swims through with dates and information and descriptions and 'yeses' and 'nos' all through lunch. I get a headache. I feel like falling asleep, though my body is hard and bruised and wide awake. No one I see is much better. I swear Will has a new bruise that I hadn't seen before.

The physical is crucial. Cruel. It digs on your hands, your ears feel like they're going to burst, they're so full of fog and buzzing, and you can barely focus. But I can. I'm the best when I focus on something, take deep breaths, and try to take it down.

Tobias was right. I breathe easier than Christina does. Will looks ashen the entire time. Al, for once, looks emotionless. Like a robot, his face is stony, cold. I tell myself it's because of the testing, of this crucial point in our training, and not because of me.

The night after all the training, after all the announcements, timing, pounding fists, making your limbs go in odd positions, leaves us tired. Lynn and Marlene are irritated. They're taking a shift tonight. With Eric. After having had to do many pushups and pull ups and running.

"I hate the world," Lynn says, laying across her bunk. One of her arms hangs off the bunk limply beside her.

"You hate the military training. That's different from hating the world, Lynn," Marlene points out.

Lynn lets out a scoff. Marlene is too cheerful for us. Even for the regular world, she is too chipper. She smiles a lot.

I barely smile these days, even though I'm not failing miserably in the go/no-go course. Peter finds that I'm doing well. This doesn't sit well with him, and he lets me know. I try to push his mocking voice, vulgar words and childish insults out. It's hard to, though, when he's right about me having the body of a tween boy.

But I smile with Tobias. Just standing with him makes me smile. Because it's my time with him, the precious minutes that he enjoys as much as I do.

"Cheer up, Lynn," Marlene says.

"No." Lynn is annoyed. Obviously. She's more vocal about things that irritate her than the rest of us are.

"For the sake of everyone here, please do," Will says from where he is sitting on Christina's bed next to her.

"Lynn, you're irritating everyone. Stop," Uriah says, and he pokes her feet and then ducks his head before she can reach it to pound it.

"Try that again, Uriah," Lynn says, "I dare you."

"No," Uriah says, and then he starts running back to his own bed, but instead hits Al.

Uriah stands back, shocked. "Oh, sorry, Al."

Al shrugs. "'S okay."

I frown as I slide off my bed. Will and Christina jump off her bed, their faces concerned as well. Al's face is pale. He looks like he might cry.

"Al, you okay?" Christina wonders, touching his arm.

He shrugs again.

"Well, what happened?" Will says, sounding wary.

"I'm getting booted," Al says.

The people between the two bunk beds look vastly alarmed, though no one lets out a gasp or a shocked noise. We've all seen how Al has gotten the brunt of Eric's yelling, how he's been the one who has been falling behind in our laps around the fort.

"You failed the go/no-go course?" I say slowly, taking it in slowly that Al is leaving. That he is going to be gone, not completing the training. That the last few weeks of his life are nothing now.

Al nods. "I just got my order to go. I've got to pack."

"You need help?" Will says, sounding obliging.

Al shakes his head. "No thanks, Will. I can do it. I'm capable of packing my own duffel bag."

"You're leaving tonight?" Christina says, sounding surprised and choked.

Al nods. His eyes look away and he says, "I asked to be sent with a bit of honor. Got a little privacy. They're obliging. They're getting a car, I'll be taken to the airport. I'll call my parents." He sighs and looks back to us. I just know that his parents aren't going to take this well.

"I'm sorry, Al," Christina says. She steps forward and wraps her arms around him in a comforting hug. He takes it hesitantly, like he doesn't know if he should take it.

"So am I," Will says. He sounds quiet. He's losing his battle buddy, and I've seen him and Al. They laughed together. They teased, joked, worked together. Will will get another one. Maybe even Peter. That thought makes me burn inside, and once Christina steps back from Al, I say, "It was nice having you, Al."

He looks at me strangely then. It's almost . . . sympathetic. Or understanding. "It was nice being with you guys. You were the best part." He takes a step back, takes us all in. Uriah shakes his hand then, and Al nods to Lynn and Marlene.

He straightens at the end and says, "It was nice making friends. Do well, guys," and he turns and heads to fetch his duffel bag. He'll take his things and go and get his really personal items. He'll catch a car and go. Out of this almost prison-like place. Outside the gates, away from this place. Like he has escaped.

The rest of the night is quiet. Everyone is hit with the fact that someone is leaving. The boys head back to their beds quickly. Christina joins me on my bed, and we just sit together for a while.

Once, she says, "I didn't know he was doing that badly. It must have been his quizzing as well."

I nod blankly. It must have been. He hadn't been so bad as he had let off.

I bet it was Eric that Al had gone to see in his office. That was why he wasn't here right after supper, which was slow and eaten with sore hands.

"Think Eric was the one to fail him?" Christina says.

"I can practically guarantee it," I spit.

Christina nods. "And just before the Blue Phase."

"Or Phase III," I point out.

Christina lets out a sigh. "OR the Warrior Phase."

I sigh. "They need to stick to just one of those names."

Christina raises an eyebrow. "Where's the fun in that?"

Absolutely none.

Bedtime comes. Marlene and Lynn follow after Eric. I stare at him as he walks down the aisles, calling us all to our places. I resist the urge to clip him upside the jaw.

**AL. NOOOOOO. Thanks for reading! Please review! **


	10. Marcus Eaton, Life-Ruiner

**Thank You, God, for everything**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. Warning: angst and mentions of child abuse ahead.**

The next phase, the third one, does come up. And it's straining. Everyone is aware that Al is gone, that he had failed the go/no-go course, and so everyone is pressured, feeling the heat.

The morning of the first day of it is hellish. As usual. It's still dark out. We're all getting dressed to head out to the usual physical training in the morning. Lynn is the oldest and most experienced of our friends, and she looks up and gives us a grim smile.

"Be careful to survive," she says brightly.

I give her a grim look in return. Even when she tries to be cheerful, she isn't. Lynn is always dismal, though. Biting. Sharp.

PT is hard on our bodies, as usual. But the soreness is used to now. It is all familiar, habitual. I don't feel the pain so sharply now.

Everything is scheduled, automatic here. I walk into the dining hall with the rest of my company like usual, look around for Tobias as I usually do, just to see that he's there. That he hasn't somehow disappeared.

I'm supposed to see him sitting with Lauren, his eyes searching for mine as well. So I'm startled when I see he's talking to someone. It's not someone I recognize. He has a gray pallor, short dark hair that is thin. He is talking as well, waving his hands around, and Tobias turns from him. His face shows that he is deathly annoyed with his father.

The man is Marcus.

Tobias hadn't told me that his father was going to be here. Not mentioned a word. Maybe his talking of his father was supposed to mean something, but I don't know what.

Tobias doesn't met my eyes during breakfast. He looks at his plate the entire time. I look away, annoyed. Fine.

We walk out of the dining hall. I expect us to head to our first class, but we're stopped before we can move more.

"Take them to the yard," Lauren tells Eric before hurrying away.

He bites his lip, plays with a ring before he turns and orders us ahead. Our feet thump in a rhythmic manner as we head out. Nobody notices how my hands curl and uncurl. Why are we being called out? Is there going to be a searching through us for someone? To publicly humiliate them in front of the company?

Something comes to mind. A thought that sends a wave of nausea through me; my breath catches and I feel like grabbing someone's shoulder to keep steady. Because the thought of what might be happening hits me full force.

What if we've been found out?

What if somehow, someone has found out about myself and Tobias? About what we do during our shifts? About our slowly growing relationship, which I am finding myself growing constantly to, caring about?

My heart pounds within me as we exit the building and take our positions in the yard. I'm one of dozens. I'm short. I'm lost in the company of neatly fixed together lines. They can't find me. I'm hidden. I'm invisible.

I've always thought I'm invisible. Someone you overlook for being too small, too plain. Hopefully I'm just being paranoid and am actually being right.

The drill sergeants come out. Eric, Tobias, Zeke, and Lauren. The four who are always with this company. Eric is viewing us with slitted eyes. Lauren looks stony, like she's wondering as well what we've done. Tobias looks like he a statue, like he knows something but knows that he shouldn't tell. All their backs are as straight as a rod. They're all disciplined like that.

Someone exits the dining hall. He wears his medals and pins, his name badge, a hat in the hot sun. He walks and addresses the drill sergeants. He sounds kind, but firm. Tobias looks at him with venom. I see him through his eyes, how his voice is dripping with poison, lies pouring from his lips as his facade gives him the look of a stern but respectful commander when he is anything but.

Commander Eaton then turns to us. I can see through the lines of people in front of me. He has grey stubble over the bottom half of his face, which is strange. The military are clean cut. He looks like he forgot to shave this morning.

He nods to us. "Good morning, recruits. I am Commander Marcus Eaton." He tells us where he is from, but I barely hear. My eyes may look to him, but they flit away to Tobias. He is looking at Marcus with such an expression that it makes me nervous. He looks so angry, like the man is the bane of his life. Which he probably is. He looks like he wants to slug him, but as he is a lower officer and in front of a bunch of trainees, he keeps his hands to himself and instead gulps thickly down his anger.

"I am going to watching your progress through the Warrior Phase of your training," Marcus says. I'm now officially on Team White or Team III. "I may not say much, but I will tell you if you are doing wrong. But don't be afraid of me." He turns to the drill sergeants. He has this smile on his face, one that looks mocking. "Be afraid of them."

Tobias looks not so controlled anymore. The mocking tone is so evidently towards him, but only the three of us get its meaning. Just Marcus, Tobias and I. That Marcus is pretending that Tobias is in a state of being feared for once when he will never be. Not when he's there.

Tobias looks directly at us. He avoids my eyes, which I am both annoyed and relieved by.

Marcus nods and leaves us in the capable hands of Lauren, Zeke, Tobias, and Eric. As if Eric's hands are capable.

I let out a sigh as we're divided and made to march back in lines to the dining hall to move through to the classroom. We're not found out. We're okay. Tobias would have signaled me if we had.

* * *

It's four days later when I finally get my shift with Tobias. But Eric was the one who set up the shifts, and I'm set up with Uriah, of all people, to watch with me. But at least it's not Peter. That's what I keep telling myself.

The lights dim. It's all quiet. I stand with Uriah, and I automatically salute Tobias when he comes up. He doesn't meet my eyes as he leans against the wall next to Uriah.

Uriah is a talkative guy. He would have talked a lot with me if Tobias wasn't here. He has to hold in the words as he looks casually from Tobias to myself. Great. He must have an inkling. So I won't give in to looking at Drill Sergeant Eaton. I won't. And I don't even feel like it. I don't want to look at him. Even if Uriah wasn't here, I wouldn't. I'm too angry. No warning about Marcus coming here. I wouldn't mind if we were just like a regular instructor and a regular trainee. But we're not. Because I agreed to his idea.

But no. We're in a personal relationship. He should have told me if his father was here. Told me. Talked to me. Marcus's presence is obvious in its effect on him. Tobias looks so nervous with him around. I can help, but he'd rather have his pain and nervousness to himself. That's selfish.

We do a few tasks. Carry notes. Check outside. Tobias opens his mouth a couple of times, but no words come out. I know that but I don't say anything about it. I feel too angry to just lash out and demand an answer. He has to notice and ask me first.

Eventually, maybe three hours into my shift, I hear his throat clear. "Prior. Follow me."

I don't ask where we are going. I already know. Besides, if I did, Uriah would notice that I'm being defiant again. He'd think that Tobias would yell at me.

I'd feel better if he did yell at me, actually. It'd mean something.

We come to the corridor. The walls are blank, white and dull and turned grey from the lighting. The floor is shiny.

He turns so he is facing me.

"Tris," he says.

I look away. I focus on the office doors away from me. I'd rather stare blankly away than look into his eyes and see what emotions he's allowing to swim in front of his face.

"Tris." His voice is hard now. Demanding.

"What, sir?" I turn my head now. The reminder that he is my instructor makes me turn my head.

"Don't call me that," he says, his voice indignant. "That's what I call my father. Don't you dare call me that."

"You mean the name of the father that you didn't bother telling me was coming here?" I say. My stomach suddenly turns, flips around like a stormy sea.

He looks startled. "I didn't know he was going to be here. He just came the night before he talked to you guys, while you were in the barracks. Eric brought him in. Believe me, I don't like that he is here. Sorry I wasn't able to tell you." The last is firmly sarcastic.

I stare at him now. "You had no idea he was going to be here? During our time at this fort? Did you know that he was going to come at all?" My tone turns hissy. "Tobias, when we were called out, I thought we were _found out_. The two of us."

Tobias shakes his head. "He doesn't care about me that much to think that I'd be with a girl. To me to defy him . . . he'd never think that'd be able to happen." He walks past me to the wall. He turns and leans against it, his hands planted against it. The gun hangs on him as he bows his head, leans it against the wall as well.

I don't know what to say, don't know what has happened to make him do this, and he suddenly says, his voice echoing in the silent hall:

"Do you really want to know why I don't want to talk about him? Because even the mention of him shakes me. My father makes me scared. I don't get scared easily, Tris, but he is the terror of my life. I feel vulnerable around him, out of control of myself, unable to protect myself."

I take a step forward, my breath catching as I decide whether I should talk to him or not. I exhale. "Tobias, you can trust me. Honestly."

"Honestly?" He lets out a scoff. Maybe half a chuckle, but I can feel anger rolling off him.

My voice turns stern. "Yes. Whether you like it or not, you're going to have trust me. We can't have a relationship based on physical pleasure. That's not something I can participate in." I want someone who's in for the personality, mental game as well.

I let out a soft sigh. "Please, Tobias." It's honestly paining me to see him like this. He's one of those guys that is always reliantly solid, strong, shielding his emotions. To see the walls crumble in front of me, while he's still trying to repair them, retain them, hurts me. Because he feels like he has to.

He turns to me suddenly. His face is full of a mix of colors.

"You want me to trust you, Tris? You want to know?" he says. He sounds so quiet.

Scared, I nod.

"He beat me. He physically abused me. He turned my childhood into a living hell." He clears his throat, looks down once more before meeting my scared eyes. "With a belt. And there were always these _welts_." He holds up a hand. Along his wrist I see many thin white scars. "These remind me of him. This is where his belt stung. And my mom was gone. She's been gone from my life for years. Because he caused her to do things I could barely understand." He closes his eyes. Lets out a sigh. "I've been haunted by him, paranoid because of him."

I can feel the pain radiating from him.

My hands move by their own accord. I don't realize what I'm doing as my body moves under his arched body and catches his back in my arms. My hold on him tightens as he stiffens, and then his hands hold onto me, gripping me like I'm the one thing he needs to keep himself together.

I don't say a word. I don't know what to say to that. My parents were never like that. They were strict but kind. Marcus is . . . he's a monster. To beat his own flesh and blood, his own son. And for what reason? How can he get out any satisfaction out of that, by causing pain?

It's sick. I can feel from the way Tobias clings to me that I'm the first he's told.

"You should report him to the army. How the hell did he get a job here?" I mutter, my voice getting lost against his neck.

"He's charismatic. His criminal record is clean. He performed well. They were instantly won over. Impressed," Tobias says, his voice sounding strangely raw.

I remember seeing defined muscles under Marcus's shirt. My throat tightens. My grip is tighter. My heart is pounding, having never had Tobias this close to me before, but I can feel the desperateness from him, and he overwhelms that fear that rises inside of me, so much that it recedes.

He steps back after a few minutes of me just holding him. His eyes are pink, but no tears are visible. His face is grey and tan and bruised under his eyes.

I let out a breath, dare to say, "Did he ever stop?"

"Beating me? No. I was too cowardly to stop him. He knew that I was. So he kept doing it." Tobias shudders. "I escaped when I was eighteen. I joined the army. Thought I could be stronger doing this. This would toughen me." He shakes his head. "All it's really done is make me tighten my emotions and hate the world of strictness even more."

"So why are you still here?" I say.

"It's familiar. I was going to leave, though. With a little honor, just serve out the rest of my years in the kitchens. Anything that doesn't have its bows and salutes and shouts and counting and chanting and yelling."

"You didn't move down in rank, though," I point out.

"Exactly." He looks at me, and though he isn't smiling, I can tell that he is admiring me. "You're the reason I didn't move down. I stayed here so I could keep an eye on you."

"Make sure that I didn't get to kill myself?" I say.

"Or fail," he says. He's still right in front of me. His breath is less labored, his countenance having no tension now. He leans forward. His forehead touches mine. His hands come up and clasp my shoulders in a grip that's not too tight but gripping, like he needs to hold onto me.

"I stayed because I was interested in you. In your well-being. In your military life. In you, Tris," Tobias says. His voice drops to below a whisper, barely audible, but loud enough to make the hairs on my arms stand. "You're the reason I'm still here, Tris."

That's a thank you if I ever heard one.

I shake my head. "If it wasn't for you, I would have failed my gun test. I would have been beat upon."

"You could have handled it without me. You're strong, Tris," Tobias says, his voice still soft.

"No," I say firmly. There's no debating the matter in my voice. "I needed you."

"Do . . . you still need me?" he asks.

I let out a breath. I feel like I'm holding in my breath, his close proximity sending mixed signals to my brain. Flight or fight. I have to choose one.

I choose fight. Fight the fear that is clutching me.

"I need you," I say, and I kiss him, and he holds me to him now. Still close, but I'm fighting back the alerts of skin against mine in my brain, my emotions overwhelming my fear. He's strong but crumbling, but coming back together. I'm strong, but I need a stronghold to hold onto.

And that's him. He's my stronghold.

**:( I wanna kick Marcus's ass. That probably why I was in a surprised but cheering mood when Tobias did it in Insurgent. **

**Thanks for reading! Please review! **


	11. Winning

**Thank You, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. Or any military practice references. Yay, you guys are so fabulous. :)**

My life is a mix of the same things happening over and over. The classes, dining hall, kissing Tobias and talking to him in quiet tones, sneaking looks over to him during the day, going through stressful courses, like the final PT test.

The test is fairly simple. But the simple things are the ones that are the trickiest. It's made of three components: The Push-Up, the Sit-Up, and the Two Mile run.

I'm not too worried about it. The components, I mean. I'm fairly skinny, but I have skinny arms. So I practice the push-ups harder and faster. The sit-up is the easiest for me. The two mile run is what I do. I run everyday.

But still. There's the lingering feeling that I am going to fail. That something will go wrong and I will be flustered and there will be nothing I can do about it.

Everyone in the barracks tries not to look worried. Flick it off just as extra PT, which it really is. But if Al were here, he'd be worried sick. Will, now, looks pale when he doesn't want to. Christina is quieter. Marlene goes to bed earlier.

But Uriah and Lynn wonder why we're all acting so nervous.

"It's just a PT test," Lynn says, lying sprawled across her bed. "You literally do it every day. It's not like you're going to fail."

"There is a possibility that that might happen," Marlene points out.

Lynn blows a raspberry. "You'd have to SUCK to fail."

Well. How reassuring.

Once we're dressed, we go out and do our usual PT test. Our big one is this afternoon after lunch. I feel my muscles pumping inside me as I run. Two miles. That's it. Just two miles in the best time I can. My feet pound against the ground. This shouldn't be hard. Hopefully.

The classes go by. Everyone is louder than usual. Nervous. I don't see Tobias at all. Eric is roaming around us, keeping a sharp eye on us all. I don't know why. It's almost like he thinks we're going to try to escape before the PT test.

Lunch passes. Somehow my stomach turns queasy, and I barely eat. Christina barely does so as well, and Will is left to eat the rest of our food, though he is as skinny as I am small and can barely eat more than his fair share. All of us silently wish for Al back.

We're ordered into an orderly pack after lunch. I straighten the best I can, but my body is betraying. It wants to lie down, back away from this. But I'm stronger than my body. Mind over matter. I force myself to keep pace with the rest of the troops as we head outside.

The clouds are grey outside. There's a faint crack, like a stroke of thunder befalling somewhere a few miles from us. The worn grass and tossed about dirt is dry as we take to our place in the yard. The gates look taller than usual. There's more patrolling than I remember.

All the soldiers are out here. Zeke, Tobias and Eric are leading the practices, showing us how they expect them to be done, correcting us when we fail to meet standards.

We're all lined up. This will be like an assembly line. One drill sergeant at each station, a few lower officers next to them doing the timing. Eric walks in front of us, his eyes taking us in, sizing us up. I'm not in the front, for which I am glad. I can feel his bare gaze on me from the back, making me feel exposed and naked.

"All right, soldiers," he says after a minute. "Welcome to the United States Army Physical Test. Be prepared to be tested. Be prepared to faint if you will. Prepare to die. The heat is out here. Don't die of heat exhaustion." His voice is a little fainter as he says, "That's frowned upon and without honor here."

He has his arms behind his back as he says, "The Army FM 7-22 has the rules which you will be performing your exercises by. The first is the Push-Up." He goes to explain like a robot, the words coming out of him like straight out of his memory, as he thoroughly details and demonstrates how to do the push-up properly and up to army standards.

Eric's done. He stands up, takes us all in, and points in the company. "You, Soldier!"

He's pointing to Uriah.

Uriah steps forward, his body rigid and still.

"You're starting, get moving, Soldier!" and so it begins. For the next hour I watch soldiers go through the Push-Up line. Have Eric's yelling, demanding voice echoing in my ears. Watch as the bigger soldiers get picked through first. How Eric looks like he's about to shake Will apart when he restarts his turn for the ninth time. Will's body needs to line up so that his shoulders and ankles nearly match up.

I'm picked near the last. It's my small size. It gives me enough time to think of how my hands are clammy. How I inhale so much dusty air, despite the eminence of rain falling.

It does finally rain. It pours and makes mud and people have a hard time getting good grips. Some slip. The drill sergeants don't care. They encourage the rain, calling for it to come down faster and harder. The soldiers wish they wouldn't.

I don't say a word. My clothes soak me, clinging to me. But I stand as still as a statue, like Uriah when he was called.

Finally it's my turn. Eric looks as tired as everyone else is excited. His voice is still going as strong as ever. He claps his hands together, yells, "Prior! Remember, ten restarts for your first push-ups! You're probably going to need them all. Hurry up, little girl! Move along!"

I get down on my knees, try to find a good place to sink my hands. But I sigh and get dirty. I'm covered in the mud, but I don't care. My hair is short but in my face and I blow it out as I stretch out as quickly as I can and get the order to go.

I have the availability to use ten restarts for my first ten push-ups. I use just two as my breaths come out in short spurts. My arms take me up and down. My form has to be perfect. Please be perfect please be perfect please be perfect.

My two minutes are called, and Eric sends me to the Sit-Up station. I feel no breath in me as I take my spot in line. Waiting for my turn gives me time to catch breath and shove it back down into my lungs.

Tobias is at the Sit-Up station. He had already demonstrated it for everyone. His torso was perfect in the way that it fit him in a way that set him to be strong looking but not overly muscular.

"Soldier. Get set," he says. I nod and I get down into the mud. This is going to be so fun. My back is sinking into the mud as my knees stick out. My heels plant against the ground, the only part of my feet that have to stay in the mud at all times. My hands interlock, my fingers join, behind my head. I let out a breath.

Here I go.

The timer starts. I go up and down as fast as I can, taking the form they want. Got to do things the way they want them. I've got two minutes to do as many as I can. Gotta earn at least sixty points in this to pass. I'd rather get more.

I don't hear Tobias, though I know he is talking to me, trying to get me going faster. But everything is on mute. No. All I can hear is muffled silence. In front of me is soldiers' feet and mud. I keep going up and down, barely feeling, only knowing what to do.

Tobias tells me to go. The rain drowns him out, but I know what he wants me to do. I get up, my clothes completely soaked in mud and rain.

I run to the front line, where a pack of soldiers are spreading out into a straight line to get ready for the two-mile run. I see Christina as I hurry past her to Zeke, who hands me a numbered white paper, plastic covered, with a pin to pin it on. I fumble it onto my shirt and then salute him before I go to the line.

There's the order. I've barely gotten time to catch my breath, but that's the point. I exhale and pick up my feet and start running forward. My arms are bent at 90 degree angles at my sides. My ribs are feeling everything as my lungs burn as I run. Run. Just run. No point in keeping pace like others are. No walking either. That's discouraged. I'm running on adrenaline.

I see Peter ahead of me. The healthier thing for me to do is stay behind and away from him. If I get near him he will try to stop me. And his stopping me can be considered helping.

But I'm not often too logical. I'm revengeful. I'm prideful.

And so I move, move move move until I pass Peter. I look behind and almost laugh. The look on his face would be that of a child's when their candy is stolen. Their prize.

The feeling of revenge fills me inside, burning me forward, and I turn my head and just go. Don't give him a chance to move past me, take pace with me, catch and hinder me.

I cross the finish line and my hands go to my kneecaps. My back is bent. My breath has to come back to me. I want to sit in the mud and wait for air to come back, but that's a sign of weakness. Weakness is frowned upon around here. So no sitting. Just standing and getting soaked.

Christina comes to me after I hand back my numbered paper, breathing heavily, her makeup running and her hair tossed about.

"Bad hair day for sure, huh, Tris?" she says. She sounds tired.

I reach out a hand and ruffle her hair even more, making her say "Hey!" and do the same to me. Our hands are covered in orange mud, but never of us care. We're done with the PT test.

I let out a relieved breath and smile.

* * *

"WE DID IT, BITCHES!" Christina says, putting her arms around myself and Will. He lets out a whoop and all I can do is smile. If my mom heard her language, she would have been shocked. My dad would have lectured Christina. I just smile.

We passed. Our results are back and the three of us have passed. So has Uriah, Marlene and Lynn.

"Peter is getting it!" Christina says. She lets go of Will and I and turns around in circles in the narrow hall, her arms up and her face looking mischievous.

Eric HAD made an example of him. At dinner, he had pointed him out as a soldier who cheats, who takes down others to get ahead himself. Funny, that Eric should be the one to have said that speech.

Marcus had looked at Peter disapprovingly. Tobias had looked at him with almost an undeniable smirk.

He's packing up his things for bivouac when we get to the barracks. He doesn't meet any of our eyes. I know. The shame. The honor he's lost. It's not that that's making him annoyed. It's how we won and he didn't. We're the easy ones, the little bugs that he should have stomped, the easy pickings that should have fallen a long time ago.

I give him a bright smile as I pass him to my own bed. He turns away and throws a pile of clothes into his duffel bag.

Lynn is hanging upside down from her bunk. Marlene is smiling at her; we're all cheered infinitely up.

"Wish we could sneak some alcohol in here," Lynn says.

"Zeke actually did that in his time here. Didn't get caught either," Uriah says.

"How well have you followed in your brother's footsteps, Uri?" Lynn wants to know.

"Don't even try that," Christina says. "Eric's mad that so many of us have passed through."

"Damn it," Lynn sighs.

"This means we're going through bivouac," says Will. "Does anyone actually know exactly what that entails?"

"Oh, it was Zeke's favorite part of training. It's basically camping. Surviving in the wild, away from these luxurious dwellings," Uriah says, falling into the bed next to Marlene, wincing as he hits the hard bottom through the thin mattress.

"That was a joke, right?" Will says uncertainly.

"Sure, kid," Uriah says.

I sink into my bed with a frown. I've never been camping. It was considered too dirty and too much work and too selfish to go out in the wilderness when there was things that had to be done at home. But it sounds like fun. Well, as fun as it can be when you're in the military and roughing it in tents.

**Oh yeah! Badassery. **

**Thanks for reading! Please review! **


	12. Camping Yay

**Thank You, God, for everything.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. In answering a.m567, I did SOME research, though probably not enough. And guest, THIS IS AN AU, OKAY. Some things are going to be different. :0**

The next morning it seems earlier when Eric calls for us to get up and out. We've got our bags to get; we get dressed hurriedly, skipping usual PT. My hair is knotted when Christina tries to brush it out.

"Ow. Ow. Ow," I say, but she goes at it with a vengeance.

"I will NOT let your hair be like that on a who-knows-how-long hike we're taking," Christina says. She sighs and smashes my hat back on my head, saying, "That's the best I can do."

Breakfast is a quick affair. Will makes us toast, saying, "To the last meal we'll have in a while that isn't dried or cold."

Now I'm worried.

Bags are put on our backs, holding all the things we will need to survive. It drags down my back, and I adjust it as I follow my company down the hall. There's a pep in my step as I join Christina and Will. It's the buzz from yesterday and this morning.

It's dark when we go outside. Our green clothes, jackets and hats are dark, but I can see Eric, Lauren, Zeke, and Tobias as they shout out orders. Their voices are dragged everywhere. All the troops around me are quiet. No one speaks a word out now. Not when there's the potential to somehow be held back to stay here. No one wants to stay here.

Marcus is out this morning. Dressed in his important, rank-appropriate clothes, he takes us in, writes some things down, things he must just be noticing. I don't try to meet his eye. I can barely imagine looking in his eye and being lied to.

Past the drill sergeants is the grey fence, with its wires and scrolls along the top. Like we're in prison and not in a military fort.

I can feel the tension in our company. We're ready to go, itching to get out, even if we're walking the entire way, which we are.

Soon the drill sergeants break apart and each go to a company. I may have Peter and Molly in my company, but I've also got Tobias as the drill sergeant. He watches over us with a stony gaze, taking us in, and he catches sight of me and lingers on me for a second before turning back to the rest of them. But I know he must have requested this company, or else I'm sure that Eric would have gotten this one. That would have been so much fun.

And we move out. My feet are itching to take me out of here, and when we pass through the gate, the guards watching us from their towers, I feel freed.

We walk for hours. Walk until dawn. Walk all morning, all afternoon, all evening. Have a couple of breaks for water and meals, but we're immediately pushed. The strain is there, but it's welcome. I may have blisters on my feet. I'm not enjoying them, but I'm glad they're there. They're proof that I've moved, I've gone from that place.

We finally come to our campsite. There's a lot of trees, somewhere in the forest. Plenty of clearing space. We go out in units after getting supplies from the supplies truck that have been moving behind us the entire time at a snail's pace.

The drill sergeants release us all to put up our tents. There's no demonstration, but Christina is confident that she can get ours up.

"Just listen to me and do what I say to do," she says. She's breathless when we drop our tent on the pale, dark, grassy ground.

I heard other forts use barracks. Nope. We use tents here in the fields. A different change of pace for us to get used to. "Sounds easy," I say sarcastically as my knapsack drops from my shoulders, landing on the ground with a THUMP!

The next hour goes awfully. Christina has NO idea what to do with a tent. She has no idea how to set it up, though Eric walks past us and orders, pointing his hand around, demanding that we twist this and move this up and wondering why we joined the army when we didn't know how to set up a camping tent to their standards.

"Move it along, Prior, Argo. Gotta move faster if you want to survive here," Eric says, throwing us a greasy smile. I see he has a gold tooth. It fits him, actually.

"Wow, is he helpful," Christina says, standing over our tent and looking like she wants to both slug Eric and kick our tent. There's wood pieces and canvas all piled together.

"It's sad looking," I say.

"No kidding, Tris," Christina says. She sighs, running a hand through her hair, and she says, "You know what? Let's go walking around, see if we can get any visual aids. None of this waving hands around that Eric likes."

I sigh and nod. There's nothing more we can really do.

And Zeke had said this was the best part. He has a very different definition of 'best' from what I view the word as.

There's rows of tents set up. It makes Christina visibly angry, seeing as they've managed to get theirs up. The tents are in crooked rows, which Tobias and Lauren are trying to cure. The occupants of the tents are being ordered out to straighten their tents. It actually makes me feel better, seeing Tobias berate others about not being good enough.

Then I remember my tent and hope he doesn't come over to see it. He'll have no choice but to yell at me then.

"Tris! Come on!" Christina calls, and I walk stiffly toward her, my legs too tired to run. She's found Will and Peter, the reluctantly shoved together battle buddies. who are arguing about straightening their tent.

"You managed to get yours up. How?" Christina demands.

"Oh, hi, Christina," Will says.

Peter scowls and says, "Eff off."

"Not very helpful to your fellow soldiers, are you, Peter?" Christina says, hands on her hips.

"You're barely a soldier, so I could hardly say that you're rank enough to ask that of me," Peter says.

Will rolls his eyes and shoves the part of the tent he's holding at Peter, saying, "I'm going to go help them."

"They're supposed to do it by themselves!" Peter says angrily. His face is contorted; he wants nothing more than to lash out at us after yesterday.

"You're supposed to help your fellow soldiers when they need it, Peter," Will says hotly. "I'm not actually going to touch their tent. Just give them pointers when they need them." He points to his and Peter's tent. "I put that together while you complained about Tris and Christina. I suggest you straight it before Four and Lauren come snooping around." Will turns on his heel to face Christina and I and says, "Lead the way."

With Will watching us, it's like we have a new spurt of confidence. Maybe it's just having fresh eyes about looking our project; either way, before the time of heading off to bed, Christina and I have erected our tent. Just in time, too, for Tobias comes around to inspect it.

Will gets away after saluting Tobias before he can get reprimanded, leaving Christina and I to stand outside our tent, arms folded over our chests; Christina bites her nails, uncharacteristic of her, as Tobias goes inside and inspects the tent. Makes sure that it doesn't fall on us as we sleep.

He comes out, standing tall over us as he says, "It passes inspection. Now get to bed." He points a hand to the washing station and Christina salutes him and hurries away, leaving us alone.

He looks at me with a smile that's half-hidden in the dark. "I was tempted to just come over here and assemble the entire thing myself if you hadn't pulled it together."

"You aren't allowed to do that," I say.

"I know. I withheld myself. I'm good at self-control," Tobias says. "But you've weakened it somewhat."

He nods and I salute him, just in case someone is watching us, and he says, no, whispers, "I'm exercising self-control right now."

"How so?" I ask.

"From kissing you. But people can see things, think things, derive things, get us in trouble," he says. He takes a lazy step back and says, "See you tomorrow for FTX, Prior."

I salute him again and head into my tent to go through my pack.

* * *

Christina has a battery-operated lantern as a light. "From the supply car," she says. "Only one per tent, though, and I hear they might just take them away any ol' time they want to."

"Wow. How generous," I say, taking my sleeping bag and laying it against the ground, which is bumpy with pine needles and pine cones. This is going to be a fun night.

"For the army, yes, that is generous," Christina says. She glances slyly at me and asks, "And what did Four want to know?"

I stare at her for a second before I shake my head and turn to unzip my sleeping bag. "He just said that he felt tempted to help us if we failed miserably."

Christina has a twinkle in her eyes. "Anything else?"

"Loose lips sink ships," I say, recalling that quote from my history,

"Yes. Learning what a soldier and a drill sergeant in a relationship were talking about is going to lose us our country, livelihood, and ruin the world for future generations," Christina says. She raises an eyebrow.

"Worst case scenario, much?" I say, looking up at her from digging around in my bag.

"You brought up the idea for this to ensue any worst case scenario," Christina says.

I shake my head, stand up, my toiletries in my hand.

"Good night, Christina," I say, taking steps back until I'm out of the tent.

"That's all I'm getting? Tris!" I hear behind the tent flaps as I turn and head to the washing station.

* * *

There's not a lot of grass in the fields for the FTX. Field Training Exercises. That's what we're going to do out here. It's mostly dust.

Lauren runs through the tent-laden 'field' with a big megaphone, calling out for us to get our sorry asses out of bed, breakfast is ready, has been for weeks, and hurry up before she came into individual tents and yelled in our ears.

Lauren is quite persuasive.

I stumble out of my tent with Christina right behind me. It's already warm, the summer coming in and sinking down on us, having found a nice spot to rest. We're wearing our green suits, pants and long-sleeve shirts, our boots up tight and hats strapped to our heads like we're really going out to battle. In a way, that is what we're going to do.

Breakfast is the first start to a different time in the army. Will looks with distaste at the packets we're given. We end up sitting in a circle on the ground, taking in our meals, ready-to-eat, our rations. Literal rations; it's dried food in brown packets that I've never seen before and never want to have to eat. But the army is making me do this. Ha. Sounds fun.

Christina tears hers open, her face entirely suspicious. Uriah inspects the innards of his packet with an interested look; he's always interested in doing something different.

"This is going to hurt," Lynn says, wearing a snarl.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Uriah says, popping out something brown and cardboard-looking.

"It's begging to be knocked," Lynn says as she dumps out the bunch of packets inside her large packet. It looks like a bunch of packages of cocoa mix. There's a spoon and a few things to heat it with.

"I think they're actually trying to kill us," Christina says.

Will shakes his head. "I don't think so. These things are packed with calories and nutrients. They're meant to pack enough stuff in us but be easy to prepare and not weigh that much." Even if it looks like he's in the MREs' defense, he still looks like he'd rather throw the packets into the garbage.

"Start heating," Uriah says, sounding way too cheerful.

These meals are the strangest thing I have ever put in my mouth. The taste of cardboard, with a little salt, might be better. But it's not the food but the people I like; the faces of everyone as they screw them up at tasting the food is far more hilarious than they should be.

"Whoever made these was no five-star chef," Lynn says.

"I, in my opinion, find them slightly crusty, though with salt, depth, and nourishing to the body," Uriah says.

Lynn rolls her eyes at him.

We finish and then we've got exercises to begin.

* * *

We're all in lines as Lauren paces back and forth in front of us.

"Today we're doing FTX. Field — training — exercises." She goes on to explain. We're going out into the field and we're going to be battling each other. Loading bullets and firing off empty rounds at each other. Hiding behind things and getting to a certain point with our field buddy. Christina gives me a secret backhand high five when we hear that.

We're dispersed and we immediately go to suit up. Clothes like we wore yesterday, and then we head to the supplies station when the M4s and bullets and magazines sit.

Tobias had showed us how to load a gun; it's routine now when I slid the bullets into their slots and shove the magazine back into the gun. The strap attached to it is slung over my shoulder, and I turn to see Christina putting her gun into shooting mode.

She gives a nod, and says, "Let's go be badass."

I let out a laugh. My parents would hate that language. I find it fitting. I nod and we run, ducking low, just to make sure that we're not such a target, and we find a set of bushes. I shouldn't have trouble not being a target, though. I'm small enough that'd it be hard to get me. Maybe we should run instead. I read that you'd hit someone four times out of a hundred if they're running, but I'm not sure it's that accurate. Still, I'm a bit scared as we peek over our bushes. Peter will find us, and he will try shooting at us.

But I've got Christina, Ms. Grudge, and I can take him down if I can.

Christina cocks her gun and holds it level, holding her head back slightly, her eyes slightly squinting, her countenance speaking of poise and readiness.

"Let's track him down," she says.

"Don't hit Will," I say.

"Sure as hell I won't," Christina replies.

I bend down and cock my gun, putting it against my shoulder. The brush scratches against my skin as I bend, squat, catch a fine hold on the ground so I won't be jerked back when I fire.

The field in front of us has a few places to duck behind. A barrel. A stack of wood. A tiny little shelter. Nothing formidable. Nothing bullet-proof.

It's hard to see who's who from such a distance, with everyone trying to hide from us, but I catch sight of Marlene with Lynn, both firing away, bullet shells falling at their feet. Marlene is 'hit', and Lauren calls her out, leaving Lynn to run to where Uriah is with his battle buddy.

My eyes move with her and I catch sight of something. Bright blond hair. That's got to be either Will or Peter.

Upon closer inspection, I find it's Peter. The guy next to him is Will, and he is trying to stay as far away from him as possible. Good.

There Peter is.

I squint my eyes slightly, and then I shoot.

Perfect hit.

**GREAT NEWS. I finished writing the entirety of this story, so it's all written and ready for publishing. :)**

**Thanks for reading! Please review! **


	13. Tris is Just Being Badass

**_Soli Deo gloria_**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. LOOK AT ALL THE FOURTRIS FLUFF AWWW. I just want to say I appreciate each and every single review. Readers looking for a good story are people to write for. It's been a joy. :)**

**Also, this is a figment of my imagination ringed with some fact. This means that I have no idea if this really goes down during army basic training. **

The next days are some of the most interesting, fun and annoying days here in the army. There's a lot to do, and some of it has to be done with people I don't like. Person. Peter.

I did get him out of the exercise, and now the glare on his face is so undeniable only his mother could love him. Christina and Will congratulate me on changing it for them ("His scowl needed a remix") and Uriah cheers me on.

Tobias saw my shot as well, saw how Peter took it, how I fell back in the bushes and then came up in a second, firing at Will (he forgives me easily, saying he should have gotten me first. With a grin, of course). Tobias smiles and says, "I taught you well, then."

He usually sends someone to fetch me every couple nights. Always a different person, always a different time, and only Christina can tell that I'm always going.

"Subtle, isn't he?" she says, but she's like a mother or older sister, giving me a nod like she's giving me permission to sneak off tonight.

I roll my eyes and head off to his office and it's dark and there's barely any lights, and I enter and he calls my name, making sure never to startle me when we're in the pitch dark. I figure out the reason for that after he does it twice.

I say his name and he catches my hand and we back away from the door into the dark, away from the rest of the army which is surrounding us, which makes each kiss more sweet and hot because we can be caught any moment. If Eric just comes over unannounced, wanting to speak to Tobias, he'll be treated to the sight of me clutching Tobias's clothes and him cradling the back of my head in his hand. Thinking of that every so often makes me smile against his lips, and then he smiles because I'm smiling and then he kisses me harder, making me barely able to think and barely able to hold onto him, but I do because he is the stone I need, my anchor, the thing I cling to because I need him.

The words are whispered soft and slow. Not the three little ones yet, not the ones so often used in poor circumstances and so unused in the times when they need to be heard. No, just words of the day, how it's 'been a long time.' And we laugh at that, how just a couple days feels like so long when we're apart. His laugh rings like bells, a deep chuckle that sounds like he's amused with just a crinkle of a smile. It fits him.

These are the times I look forward to. I know he likes them too. He tells me so. He tells me many things in these quiet moments when it's just him and me in the dark. Things happening around camp. How it's nice to have me with him again.

And then there's the other things, like:

"Marcus is coming here," he says, his voice warm against my cheek. His voice doesn't sound so soft now, but pulled, strained.

My hand against his shoulder tightens and digs into his muscles. He's always tense. His muscles are tight and my hand relaxes him more. But he's still always uptight.

"Ignore him," I say. "He can't hurt you here. One word of him acting against you, and he's thrown out. He won't try anything."

"I know that." Tobias sighs. "It's still . . . the sight of him, images of him, are burned in my mind. And they will always be there."

My hand slips away from his shoulders, and I wrap my hands around him, holding him close, despite the butterflies in my stomach, the dizziness in my head. It's selfish to be fine when he's not.

So I'll help him and not be fine.

It's better, for me, for him to be happier than me. It's easier to get used to being a robot, doing things routinely and without emotion, than to have him be one. Because when he is happy and smiling, it's almost magical. Because he's transformed. He's turned from Four to Tobias in an instant, and that brightens me.

And so these few minutes every other night make my days worth getting through. Because I never thought someone's arms around me can be so comforting, nor his voice so soothing, nor his kiss so reviving.

And then everything is just fun and games until we get to the MOUTs. Military Operations in Urban Combat.

* * *

We're going in squads around our training area, protecting the 'civil' places there. We're divided into squads and given missions. This is after the studying, which makes my brain swim and Christina moan with worry.

Will, of course, finds it only very interesting.

"See, here's references to look back to. Say your medic is wounded. Then you just—"

"Will, just no," Christina says, moaning.

It's almost like capture the flag, our missions. We have to save 'civilians' from the enemies' side of the field. Tobias and Zeke are basically referees as one morning Lauren and Eric move out with half of the troops to their side, ready to fight against us.

So this morning.

It's raining. Just what we need. And the leader for our squad is Uriah, and Christina isn't with us. And who should be the unfortunate soul to have to work with Peter?

Uriah gives me an apologetic look, but I don't think I can forgive him for this as I stand up from where I was squatting and look up at Peter. His hair is damp beneath his hat. His face is pulled into a grimace, a face that might have looked handsome if he didn't look so annoyed to be paired with me.

"Go! Come on!" Uriah shouts, and we get into position. Our guns at our shoulders, ready to easily pull and fire, bear against us as we go forward, careful of the fact that an opposing team of troops might come and get us. We're not wearing any bands, seeing as we're supposed to be able to pick our soldiers from others, but it would be helpful. Especially in the rain. Especially when I can't look carefully at who's who when I have to keep Peter in my eye at all times. He still remembers that I shot him in the first FTX. That humiliated him in his eyes, and nobody noticed except for myself and Lauren.

He got reprimanded. That's a motivation if I ever saw one.

"Move it, Stiff. I'm not losing because I'm paired with skin and bones," he growls under his breath as we move forward, bent slightly, behind Uriah.

I crack my neck. "And I won't lose because I'm paired with you."

I walk forward faster than he can, but I can feel the burn of his shame against my back, and it burns bright and beautiful.

There's barrels and sandbags built together into a wall to block us. There's shots running through, and Tobias is walking up and down the edge of the field, shouting and ordering at people with a flick of his hand, saying they're out. The rain drowns out his voice, but I can see him despite the water drowning out everyone else.

"Who are we getting?" Peter demands.

"Robert, Susan and Fernando," I say. Just three. But these three mean a lot. To the army, anyway, in our testing.

"Three. Okay," Peter says, and I think he spits into the rain, but it's hard to tell. "Let's go to the left. See if we can make it across the wall."

I look at him incredulously. "No. The wall is too tall. The left is too heavily guarded; you can see by the amount of people falling over there. There are too many gunmen."

"Who am I to take orders from you?" Peter says, his voice dripping with annoyance. His words are biting. "Listen to a little Stiff?"

"We're supposed to listen to Uriah, but apparently you'd rather fail than listen to someone above yourself," I shout, having to raise my voice over the rain.

Before Peter can say a word, Uriah calls over the rain, "Prior, Leman, keep moving! I want you to go around the wall. Blow at it if you can get a good shot. We'll cover you. Go get the civilians, go, go, go!"

I smile at Peter, who looks bitter, water running down his face, looking like he should be smoldering, the water drying on his burnt face. I'd rather listen to Uriah than Peter any day.

My boots leave impressions in the mud as I run, Peter coming quickly next to me, not wanting to stay behind when I was going to be covered. I duck low, try to ignore the fact that I'm paired with Peter and he's angry with me but we're on a mission together. I need to concentrate.

The wall is formulated of a bunch of sandbags on this end. Shooting them won't do much; they're thick and heavy with water, and they'd swallow any bullet before it did any damage in distracting the members behind the wall. So it'll be best to just try to sneak around them. I take a deep breath and go forward, and out of the corner of my eye I see several squads moving forward, shooting away at the wall. Apparently everyone else got the cue from Uriah. Peter and I are the ones to get the civilians while the rest are protecting us. The feeling of pressure atop my back increases tenfold as I move forward faster, the cries of my brothers in combat blurred in the rain. If there are any cries.

I get to the edge of the wall. I practically have to lean against it, lay down. The mud gets up to my shoulders as I suck in a breath and say to Peter, who's squatted next to me, "Can you see around the wall?"

"Yeah. It's clear. Let's move," he says. He moves. I roll my eyes. Can't even rest for a moment. Make our enemies think that we're not going to them anymore, that we've been taken out. Not Peter's strategy, obviously.

The mud fills my boots as they sink into the earth. I ignore that, though, as I come around. I'm determined not to let Peter do something stupid. There's also the selfish part of me that wants to get the glory for saving the three civilians. So does Peter. We're on the alert for the enemies, which includes the other.

There's soldiers crouched around the wall, bending down, ducking, and laying down when they get shot. Play dead in the mud. Things change constantly around here, including what people should do in this demo of a battle.

I try to blend in, suddenly glad we don't have patches marking us. I catch Peter trying to approach the group of prisoners, who I instantly recognize. Fernando's glasses are soaked; Robert, and Susan's usually docile face looks worried. And Peter is trying to save them. Why not just announce that our enemies have won now? Save us time and get us to the showers to clean up faster?

But I'm not going to let that happen. Peter is not going to be the one that wins this for us. He can be good to take the blame, but I'd rather win. Winning earns you more than losing.

I shoot forward. I need to catch him before he gets discovered. Hopefully no one sees me as I blur through the pouring rain, my vision only focused on Peter moving ahead.

I touch his shoulder and shout in his ear, "Peter!"

"What?" he says. He throws my hand off me and says, "Don't touch me, bitch," and he moves ahead.

And that name, combined with him always being such a jerk, burns in my cheeks. I don't blush all that often. This is a rare occurrence, and I hate it. I don't care that I'm the only one to feel it, know it's there. He will not win this for this. Screw teamwork.

He's already at the prisoners by the time I'm there. He's shooting at the guards, knocking them around extra rough with his gun. I take out one and the one gets called out, and he falls. I move past him and catch Susan's relieved face, and I know she knows that I will save her from this madness. Because even though this is a test, this is madness, with the shooting and rain and mud flying everywhere. The terror and noise is real.

I shoot away at another guard. The jolt runs through me and the fake bullet shells fly out, and I'm at the prisoners, my hands moving fast at the knots. They're tight, and so are the ropes. You never know how tight the rope is going to be that ties you up. I bite my lip, make it bleed, as I work.

I hear Peter yell at me. "Move, Stiff!"

I look at him and my voice is low and intense as I say, "Shut the hell up, Peter."

He doesn't say anything to that.

Good.

I bend back over my work and I have Susan free in a minute or two, my hands torn with splinters from the rough rope. Peter is struggling over Fernando's ropes, cursing up a storm to mix with the rain. I move to Robert, tell Susan to keep down. We need to get them back to our base in order to end this.

Robert's ropes are harder. My hands tremble but they're slim enough to get through the holes and tightest pulls and he's free. In the time it takes me to get two prisoners free, Peter frees one. Wonderful.

"All right. We need to get them back to base. Follow me," Peter says, the first to stand up from our squatted group.

We all just stare at him for a moment. Now he's trying to take control so he'll get all the credit when we get back.

"Follow me," I find myself saying, and there's a second where I'm surprised I've said that, and then that passes and the rest of me is glad that I said that. I'll take command.

Peter looks like he's about to yell at me, but then there's a shot towards us. We all duck and look to where the shot had come from. Enemies.

There's our cue.

Grabbing Robert's arm, I push him in front of me. Then Susan, and then Fernando. The hostages have to go in front of me to get moving. I need to be covering them and myself at all sides at all times as well, though, so this should be fun. Was easier when it was explained.

Peter starts shooting at our attacker. I can't stay to watch. I need to get the hostages out. "Get to the side of the wall!" I say. They follow my orders and lean against the side of the sandbag wall as I come around.

A quick look of the field before me turns me grim. Mud, everywhere. Soldiers, standing true in the pouring rain, water going downhill. Small, dirty shelters. And there's yelling. Screaming. Shooting.

I turn back to the hostages and say, "All right, fall in behind me. Keep to yourself, that means your limbs. And remember, don't try to be soldiers. You're supposed to be normal."

"But we're getting tested on this as well," Susan says.

"Yes. As a civilian. Other civilians don't have military training," I say. I turn and see a clear passage at the edge to the other end of the field where our base is. I turn back and say, "Right. Follow me."

I turn back around and bend to keep hidden with the rain and mud. I can feel Susan's hands against my back. That's something a civilian would do. Seek shelter from a soldier.

The steps are hard in the mud, and I have to keep my eyes swiveling around. I duck; a shot aimed at my head skates across the top of my helmet. Susan lets out a little squeal. I don't know if that's her being a civilian or Susan being Susan.

Suddenly I see a sniper from behind the supplies house, and I shout for my team to duck. They listen obediently, and no one is hurt. I let out a breath that sounds choked and forced out of my throat. We'll all fail if the civilians aren't saved.

And there's the base. I can practically reach out and touch it. There's little soldiers there, seeing as we don't have to protect it like my enemies have to protect theirs. Just a few dozen yards. Across a disgusting battlefield. At least there's no blood. I think I may need shock therapy to get used to seeing copious amounts of split blood.

But tons of blood shouldn't be on my mind. I clear my mind. Just keep moving. Just get the civilians to the shelter, even if it means I get shot in the process. That's my thought process.

I take them around a barrel, check the perimeter, deem it passable, and I swear I feel like one of the drill sergeants is going to come out and announce some plot twist because I am _this_ close to the base. I just know there's going to be something like having one of the hostages getting injured just so I can drag them to the shelter.

But there's none, and we're home free.

Fernando is in first. I send Robert there, with me covering him. I shoot and he escapes into the shelter.

There's just one left. Just have to get Susan across the few dozen yards to the shelter.

I'm like a human shield around her. She can run fast. My short legs have a hard time keeping up with her. I can see it in her face that she is really scared. Seriously scared, not play-scared.

And she's safe. Shoved into the shelter, and I raise my arm to the drill sergeants, hoping someone can see it.

Someone does. A whistle is called, and we're declared the winners.

I raise my gun, both my hands clasped to it, and whoop. The civilians stand up and people start going to the supply house to dispatch their weapons. I'm the last, being hounding by Christina and Will, exclaiming that I was the one to end it.

"It was getting kind of miserable out there," Christina says, wringing her hair out with one of her hands.

I nod, listen to their words, and then see past their shoulders and see him. Peter. He has a dark look on his face. If I wanted to not kid myself, I'd call it downright murderous.

**FABULOUS TRIS. Thanks for reading! Please reviews!**


	14. Shit's Going Downnnnnn

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. GUYS. NEW DIVERGENT STILLS. OH MY GOSH.**

**Warning, trigger: kidnapping.**

It's a dark night a couple days later. Christina and I have our lantern on, and it feels warm and cozy in the tent. It's just the two of us, joking about how we're as sore as hell.

"You'd think we'd be used to it at this point," Christina says. She has an ointment from the medical station, and she's praying that it works. She opens it and I wrinkle my nose. It's foul smelling. I remember how Tobias smells like mint from the ointment he puts on his muscles. I'm suddenly more appreciative of it now as Christina generously covers herself in it.

"This shall scare off any enemies," she says placidly, probably just to keep herself cheerful despite the fact that she hates smelling bad.

I back away. She sighs and says, "I understand that, so I won't get mad."

Good. The last thing I need is my tentmate's wrath.

There's a sound outside the tent that catches my ear and makes me sit up, look to the door flaps. Someone is outside, and I call for them to come in.

It's Tobias, and Christina looks at him with an ashen face. I almost laugh. He's dark in the entrance of our little home, and he is startling to her. But he grins and says, "Argo."

"Eaton," Christina says, her voice sounding more surprised than anything.

"What is it?" I say, sitting cross-legged. I'm wearing my regular tank and tan pants and my hair is out. I catch how he just looks at me for a second before he says, "I wanna show you something."

I don't ask what; I just get up and bending over, make my way out of the tent. He steps back and I get out. Christina gives us a secret nod as the tent flaps fall back into place. She'll keep this a secret. Tobias knows she will, too.

It's late, but not late enough that there's curfew to worry about. No one is out in the fields; they're all groaning and moaning and rubbing their sore limbs in their tents, feeling sorry for themselves. But not me. Tobias has my hand and we're walking. Walking fast, but it's not bad on my body. I feel light, curious at what he has to show me.

"So, what is it?" I say, almost trying to sound casual.

"Don't worry about it. Just look ahead," he says.

I look forward and crane my neck around as we come to a hilltop at the edge of camp. The edge of the camp slips away in the hill, and we just stand there for a moment. Before us is dark grass, patches of it, sand and dirt mixed together. A lone pond to our left. A few pine trees.

He tugs on my hand and he sits down and I realize what to do, and I roll onto my back and put my hands behind my head.

I turn my head to him. He's on his side, his head supported by his hand, his elbow bent.

"Look up," he says, his voice a wisp in the wind.

I look up and in the dark blue night, I see stars. Bright and sparkling and twinkling, like little diamonds set into a long piece of dark fabric. There's the moon there, also, and my breath is taken away. I almost sit up, surprised by what I see.

"Haven't you ever seen stars like this before?" Tobias says. I turn to see him lying down with his head cradled in his hands.

I shake my head. "I used to live in the city. There wasn't many places or much time to just go and look at the stars."

"That's what's nice about being out here. You're away from distractions, from real life, almost. Just a few things to think about doing," Tobias says. His voice is warm and soft. "It is nice, isn't it?"

"It's wonderful," I say. It's not so dark that I can't see his eyelashes against his dark eyes, the bags beneath them, or the hook of his nose, the firmness of his gaze. "Thank you for taking me out here," I murmur.

"I figured it'd be a good change of pace," he says. "I'd actually like to see you, you know, instead of just feel you in the darkness."

I just stare at him for a moment and wonder what it would be like to wake up to this face every morning. What it would be like to live with him all the time, do couple things. Be out in the real world with him.

"Where are we going with this?" I whisper.

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes just memorizing me, taking me all in. "Our relationship, Tris?"

"Yes," I say. I sit up, wringing my hands, throwing them about. "I mean, what do we do after I graduate from here? I'm sure to get a position in some fort. You'll be stuck here, unless you quit because I'm not here anymore. But . . . I don't even know where you live." I turn to see he's sitting up as well. I cock my head. "Where do you live?" It's strange, not having basic information about him but having seen his most terrible issues.

"Chicago," he says.

I'm startled. "I live there too."

"Really? That's convenient," Tobias says, flashing me a small smile.

"Ever been to the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier?" I say, sitting up and bringing my knees to my chest, holding them there with my arms.

"Ah. No. Never," he says.

"Why not? It's an attraction that's pretty famous," I say.

He looks at me and says, "I'm terrified of heights."

"You are?" I say, surprised. He doesn't look like someone who would be afraid of heights. He looks like someone who would be able to beat down any fear he had of something and then kick its ass.

"Yeah," he says. He leans forward a little and says quietly, "And, Tris, what are you afraid of? What is one of your fears?"

I gulp and look away. I'm not sure. I haven't been thinking of myself all these days I've been here. Well, physically, yes, but I haven't thought of anything like that. Not something intuitive.

I think of anything I've ever been scared of. There was once a spider I thought terrifying. Once I had a nightmare that I was being burned by my friends and family. I had woken up in a cold sweat, and . . . I was scared.

"I . . . I'm scared of . . . I think of people I love joining against me, trying to take me out," I say, looking to Tobias. "If that makes sense."

He nods. "It does."

"And . . ." I remember once Caleb had broken his ankle and I had gone berserk. We had been blocks from home and I didn't know what to do. I hadn't been worried about his ankle. I was scared of how we would get home, how we would fix him.

I shudder at the memory, of how cold fear had latched onto me, my insides worrying and my heart pounding and the feeling of wanting to curl into a little ball enveloping me.

"I'm afraid of losing control," I say. "Of not being able to control a situation." And I notice that Tobias is only a few inches from me, and a sudden image, a filthy image, fills my mind, and I back away from him.

My breath is heavy when I see something clear in his eyes, like they were foggy and now he's realized something and they're full of clarity.

"Do you think this is one of those situations?" he says.

"I don't know" is all I can think of to say as I rapidly take everything in my mind, truly processing what is happening instead of experiencing it.

He clears his throat. "Can you control this situation?"

"I can't control you," I say. I exhale. "So I can't control this situation."

"What are you afraid I might do?" Tobias says. His voice sends a chill through me. Something makes him duck his head and let out an "oh."

That "oh" scares me. I swallow and say, "What?"

"You think that I can control myself, that I can control myself to do things with you, with my body," he says this slowly, but matter-of-factly, as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking and just wants to make sure that I'm following.

A realization hits me and I turn away, and I'm sure I'm blushing now. That's it, isn't it? I'm afraid of having him with me in the most intimate way. I'm scared of what might happen.

"Tris," he says. He leans toward me a bit, not so much that I shrink away from him. "Hey, Tris. Look at me."

I take a deep breath and hope the blush isn't visible. And I turn to him.

His eyes, which are very dark, are visible in the moonlight. There's a brightness in them, almost like a fervor for something, and he says very quietly, "We're not doing anything like that."

"I knew that," I say, my voice probably giving me away.

He sits back, his legs bent slightly, his arms relaxed on them. He looks off towards the sky and the pond and the field and says, "Well, I just wanted you to know that I know. I'm not going to put you in a position in which you don't feel comfortable." He looks at me. "Or you're scared of me."

Before I can say anything more he stands up and says, offering his hand, "Let's get you back to your tent."

And this little outing is ruined because I have a fear of having sex. How wonderful.

I'm silent as Tobias walks me back to my tent. I notice that he doesn't just let me go at his office but makes sure I get back. It's not that I need a bodyguard; I think it's just meant to be a nice gesture. Not something I deserve.

I go in in a sort of daze. Christina sits up like a zombie, without her arms supporting her.

"How'd it go?" she wants to know, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

I get in my sleeping bag, ignoring her, and zip it up as close as I can to my chin. I feel like a caterpillar stuck in a cocoon, and I don't want to leave to become a butterfly. I just want the warmth to surround me always and keep me here.

"Could have gone better," I finally say, when I realize she's still waiting for an answer.

"Sounds bad," Christina says tartly. "Who offended the other?"

I have to reveal my words in a way that gives her information and yet doesn't. I let out a sigh. "We didn't offend each other." Or did I him? "If one of us is the victim, it's going to be him."

Christina slips back into her sleeping bag, saying wonderingly, "What did you do now to offend a drill sergeant?"

The answer is simple and embarrassing. I don't want to be near him.

* * *

The next few days are quiet for me. There're the usual companies of soldiers playing against the others. I'm in several situations that are simulations of what can actually happen. I'm wounded, shot, abducted, tortured, tied up, gagged, yelled at, bribed, and murdered. I get dragged around almost like a dummy when my team has to save me. I come out bruised and rubbing my back, which Christina then is determined to crack.

The competitions against the companies are like the first one in some ways: while it usually isn't raining, my company wins more times than not. Peter is in my company, but he is usually offended if someone is the winner for us when it's not him. But when it's him, it's all he thinks about. Peter won, Peter won. And he wears a stupidly proud grin on his face that Christina feels honor-bound to punch off his face.

"It would teach him a lesson in humility," she says.

One day, after a lesson in combat, I have to hold her arms back and drag her away as much as I can, seeing as I can't get Will, who is spitting out words faster than a debater, away from Peter, who is poking him in the chest and lording over him like a boxer over a fallen opponent.

We won again, and Christina had been the one to save us all. She hit a sniper who was about to take out Marlene, who was part of a crucial party in getting back an army leader in a secret mission. Peter said he had been the one to save her. But I saw Christina do it. Will did as well, and we've gotten tired of Peter's bullshit long ago. I would not have gone after him but Christina went for the first punch, and that's when I knew I had to do something.

"I did it, I shot the sniper. She's lying, and that's the damn true!" Peter says, poking Will enough to make him stagger.

"I saw with my own eyes the shot that saved Marlene, and it WASN'T from your gun!" Will says, catching his balance.

Christina is grinding her teeth. She's bigger than I am, and angrier. But I've got a stronger will, and I hold tight, taking a step back when I can.

"Your eyesight needs to get checked out. Don't you wear glasses, four-eyes?" Peter says.

"They're reading glasses," Will says hotly.

Peter ignores him. "Who are you to say that you saw that when you can barely see—"

And I should have tried to get to Will, because he's about to throw a punch. Peter's about to beat him to it, literally, when Tobias comes jogging up, scowling as he shoves the two of them apart and says, "Soldiers! Stop it before charges are made!" Will steps back, stares at Peter, who doesn't look ashamed.

Tobias scoffs. "The next one to throw a punch is getting thrown out on dishonorable discharge. And believe me, that will ruin you for the rest of your life." He turns away and catches me holding tightly to Christina, who still has rolling anger inside her, and, in the Christina way, it is showing out for the entire world to see.

Tobias looks at us with the same scowl, the same raised eyebrows, dark eyes, unpleasantly turned lips. "Same goes for you two, Argo, Prior. One foot out of line and you're gone."

I drop Christina when he passes and stare at the ground.

"Ugh," Christina says, and Peter scowls and flips the three of us off and Will is the one who grabs Christina's arm before she can punch the back of his head as he walks away.

The look on Tobias's face haunts me as I walk to the showers to clean up. Was that a face he put on to throw Peter off track, so I wasn't shown favoritism, or was it real? Was he really annoyed with me?

Part of me is annoyed with myself and is empathetic to him if that were the truth. The other part is boiling mad at him. I haven't done anything wrong. Being myself is never something wrong.

* * *

There's a noise outside my tent.

It's not Tobias, I know. He would never come walking through the fields in the middle of the night to come talk to me. He would have called a meeting.

It's two in the morning. I used to stay up this late, silently rebelling against my parents' curfew. After joining the army, though, I look forward to every bit of sleep I can get. All seven and a half hours of it.

I'm tired but alert. Something is walking around my tent. I don't know what or who; my first thought is some small animal, or maybe a trained big dog, but the footsteps are careful, too careful. Human. It must be one of the recruits, because I know it's not my mind playing tricks on me. I had been in a dark black dream with nothing but nothingness, and then a noise had woken me. Something out of the ordinary, something that sounds real.

Christina is sleeping like a bear in winter in her sleeping bag, in one of the three phases of sleep. I reach to wake her up when something darts through into my tent. A hand goes over my mouth, and I can't scream. The hand is large and cutting me off. The voice in me cries out and stays in my throat, and it tries to rip through as I flail and try punching the person gagging me as the person drags me out. Keeping its hand on me, I get punched, hard, in the face, and I still struggle. There's blood running from my nose.

Is this some sort of strange training exercise nobody told me about? Something about trying to kidnap people in the middle of the night for the other soldiers to find later?

I still struggle. I still try to get myself free, fear arresting my insides, the feeling of helplessness taking over me, and the next punch comes and it's enough as things turn to darkness.

**A little nod to the original Divergent with this startling new development. **

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	15. Oh Snap, PETTEERRRRRRRRR

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. Warning: mentions of rape ahead. Proceed with caution.**

I wake up with a groan, my hand against my temple. A pounding headache in my head; my hand goes down my face. Powdered and scabs of blood comes down from my nose, which feels like it's broken. I hiss and try to sit up. I get against a tree trunk and see my hands. My palms are scratched. My fingernails are short; I had scratched at my attacker. There's no blood there.

The rest of my body feels fine. I especially make sure there's nothing wrong below my hips. Getting kidnapped and knocked unconscious makes me an easy target, especially if my attacker was a man.

I look around and see that I'm completely alone. In a forest with dead grass and leaves and moss, and I'm nowhere near the training field.

My attacker is nowhere around me. That's a good thing, anyway. But there's also no way to get back to the field as I don't know where to go, and I gulp back whatever remaining fear is still in me and stand up, leaning against the tree as a wave of fatigue engulfed me. Okay. I need to get back to the training field. I close my eyes and try not to think of how the people will receive me there or how shaken I was when I was kidnapped, I start to stumble my way back to where I believe the camp is. The sun was always in the west. Head to the west. I'm sure to come across it sometime, though it's easier said than done.

Part of my brain is fuzzy as I walk through the forest in nothing but my socks. Would have been nice to have shoes. My attacker might have been in the army, doing some exercise for us, but I had never read about this being part of it. I highly doubt the army would take us from our beds and set us off without even telling us what was happening. No. Someone's trying to keep me out of camp, maybe thinking I'll somehow die here in the woods.

My attacker, more than likely a male, from the grunts I had heard last night as I struggled, is stupid. I'm in the army. I'm supposed to know how to survive.

But it's exhausting after I relentlessly walk for hours and hours to finally climb up the hill back to the camp. The guards come around; I just kneel and stare at them, my hands up in a surrender sign.

"Name," the guard says.

"Beatrice Prior," I say, and I give them my company, and Tobias is running down the hill, coming down to me.

"Release her. She's the one we're looking for," he says. The sight of him makes me want him to just hold me and carry away to somewhere safe. But not in front of these people.

The guards put their guns aside. "Yes, sir," they say, and they're in position again.

Tobias nods and orders me to follow him to the infirmary, and the guards, unfortunately, come with us, and I'm left to look at the back of his shirt as we go into the infirmary.

I'm attacked on every side by doctors. I'm taken to a cot and my blood pressure is taken, my heart rate, my shirt is pulled up, and I have questions coming after me and I can't see Tobias anymore.

A doctor is frowning as he looks at my sides, which I now notice to have large purple and green bruises. Those are definitely not from walking all day. I barely noticed them, but I was already sore. They were just an addition that I barely noticed.

"Do you have any idea where you could have gotten these?" the doctor asks, pushing other doctors to see them as well and give their assessment.

"Haven't a clue," I say, and that's when all the doctors look at each other, and all but one go to talk in a corner, worried looks on their faces.

The rest is a haze of metal and burning medicine and touches and aches I didn't remember being there before, and I'm in army pajamas as I get a rest for a prescribed number of days, and all of a sudden I'm laying in a bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what has happened to me.

It's after dinner when I see Christina running into my room, her hair mussed, which takes me by surprise.

"Why isn't your hair brushed?" I say.

"Thank God you can still tell jokes," Christina says, breathing heavily. "You honestly don't know the freaking scare you caused." She takes a seat at the end of my cot and closes her eyes and inhales. I realize I've never seen Christina be scared. Her reaction is scaring me.

"What happened?" I say, sitting up the best I can, but I let out hisses of pain as the soreness hits me.

"When I woke up at the bugle, I thought for some weird reason you had woken up early, or maybe you had gone to see Four," Christina says, her voice soft and low. "But he was looking for you at breakfast as well. None of us had seen you, and that's when there was a report that came. Apparently Peter had been caught by the guards and was being held in solitary. Commander Marcus Eaton, who had just come in this morning, he had just gone and laid the crackdown on him, and he confessed that he had dragged you into the woods."

"Peter," and I'm not surprised. All the hopes I had for this being some strange exercise had vanished the moment Tobias had led me to the infirmary, but this confirms everything.

"I'll kill him. For what he just did, I will," Christina says calmly, like she already has an assassination plan planned. She leans closer and says quietly, her voice surprisingly sensitive, "Where does it hurt?"

"Where does what hurt?" I say, completely cut off from what she is saying.

Christina lets out a sigh and looking away, says, grinding her teeth, "I really will kill him. He's going to go to prison, I hope. At least a dishonorable discharge."

"What?" I say. What is supposed to hurt? What is—oh. OH.

The bruises on my sides. Probably from hands gripping me. But no relentless pain below that. Christina looks at me and whispers, "He didn't rape you, did he?"

I shake my head, my arms reaching out and making me sit up straighter. "No. There's no pain except my sides. He must—he must have thought to. But he didn't." I suck in a breath, suddenly choked for air.

"He must have thought he'd get off worse if he did that, so he thought better of it." Every word out of Christina's mouth is bitter.

I close my eyes and lay back against the sheets. That's why the doctors had looked so worried. But no one had said anything about it besides Christina, who has agreed with me in saying he didn't, but the thought of that, of nearly getting raped while being an army, a place that was supposed to have better security, haunts me, and I grip the sheets tighter.

Christina pats my shoulder, then rubs it as she says, "I'm sorry, Tris. Want me to sit with you?"

I shake my head. For some reason, I don't want her company. "No. You only get so many hours to act like a human being. Go hang out with the guys."

She hesitates a moment but goes away, and I let the dark shadows and bright white lights around me surround me as I close my eyes and will myself not to think of anything. No. Don't think. Just hope that Peter gets thrown out. That's all. Don't think. Don't think.

I give an involuntary shudder.

* * *

I hear voices. Not voices in my head. Actual voices, semi-familiar voices. I blink and move my head a bit and I see. Outside my curtains are silhouettes. One is one of the doctors, one who forced water down my throat, which had been parched, and the other is him: Tobias.

I rise a bit more, my body protesting, as the doctor nods and a curtain opens, and the doctor, dressed in military medical uniform, says to me, "Sergeant Eaton is here to see you."

I nod. "Let him in." I decide that my voice sounds weaker than I want it to when Tobias comes in, and I look up to see he has darker bags under his eyes, stressful lines across his usually smooth face.

He stands with his hands behind his back, his eyes watching me, as the doctor says, "Should I leave you two?"

"Yes. I have some business to talk to Prior about. About her escapade," Tobias says. His eyebrows are furrowed in an angry line, and he looks at me with such a look I don't know what to say.

The doctor leaves. Tobias looks behind him to make sure he's gone before he quickly comes to me, his whole body not rigid at all, and slips by my right side, which I'm facing. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just looks at me, and allows me to read his face like an open book. The level of pain and anger mixed on his face has surpassed my expectations, as nonexistent as I thought them. I hadn't thought about how he would react.

His hands goes out and strokes my left cheekbone, and it feels warm against my skin. I realize that I'm cold.

When he finally speaks, his voice is haunting, scaring even me. "This place is supposed to be guarded. With guards walking through the camp, checking the edges; and yet this happens. You get kidnapped and the culprit has to come waltzing back for us to find out what happened."

He sighs. The strength in his touch slacks for a moment, but then picks up with a vigor.

"They've targeted you. First that Drew kid. Now Peter." The fact that he can call them by their first names startles me. He knows them like that in his head. "And each time has been deadly. Because you've been better than them. You've been beating them. And they don't like that. Because you appear like such an innocent kid, and then you beat them. You come alive, and they hate that." His eyes are soft as he adds, his voice in a whisper, "That doesn't excuse either of them. What they did was despicable, and I feel like punching the hell out of Peter, seeing how he likes it." His thumb presses carefully against the cheek which Peter had punched, and that's when it fully hits me that Peter had been touching me. I'm disgusted.

But Tobias's touch, how it warms me and yet sends shivers across my skin, is welcome. Because he's no longer angry with me.

"Peter is getting kicked out, right?" I croak.

"Oh yeah. Today," Tobias says. "His paperwork isn't going to be pretty." He just looks at me for a moment, battling in his head, and he says, "I'm sorry. You don't deserve this shit."

I close my eyes and lick my lips before opening my eyes again. Okay.

"Were you angry at me?"

He stares at me. "Angry at you?"

I try to sit up a bit, but he shakes his head and I catch his lower arm in my hand; I just need to hold onto him. "When you took me out to see the stars, after I said I was afraid of that . . . stuff, you backed off. Did I make you mad?"

"No. I was trying to give you space. I was trying to make you feel like you weren't in a situation you didn't want to be in. Honestly. I was mad at myself for doing that when all this time, you haven't liked it," and he looks away and I sit up at that, pull at his arm to get his attention.

"I've liked it, okay? You're a good kisser, and I like kissing you," I say sharply. "I just thought I had ruined things because I make apparent things that change our moods."

He smiles then. "You're a good kisser too, you know."

"How much so?" I whisper, and he leans back towards me and presses a soft kiss against my lips, one that warms me and is just enough to make me feel better but not overwhelmed in the worst of ways.

He backs away with a wondering look on his face. "You—you didn't mind that, did you?" he wonders, his voice slightly laced with worry.

I shake my head slowly. "I didn't mind that."

He straightens and clears his throat, our conversation about that over. I feel relieved that we're done, and lighter, because he hadn't been angry with me. "I asked the doctors about your status. . . and . . ." he glances at my sides and I feel like I should cover them with my hands even though I'm wearing clothes and sheets.

"He didn't do anything," I say, looking at the ceiling. I sigh. "But it's believed that he tried before he thought better of it."

"That's what the doctor said," Tobias says. "I asked if you should be discharged for medical purposes. They explained and said that you're clean and will recover."

Another sigh escapes me. "Thank goodness."

"Exactly, or I might just march up and slug Peter," Tobias says.

I smile slightly. "Obvious favoritism."

"I don't care."

"You're the fourth person I know who wants to punch Peter."

"There should be more," Tobias says. He meets my eyes and after a moment, says, "Do you want me to sit with you?"

I sigh. I wish he would, but we have a reputation to keep up. "The doctors would find it suspicious if they find me sleeping with you by my side."

He sighs. "I suppose," and as he stands up, he bends and kisses the top of my forehead, and says, "Get better, okay? But sleep. You need it. You look like a ghost."

"Just what every girl wants to hear, Tobias," I say, but he's right, and sleep is welcome as I lay back against my covers and fall into it.

* * *

I hear someone clear their throat behind me as I walk down the hall, and I turn around, startled, and it's just Tobias.

"Shhh, shhh," he says, putting a finger to his lips. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

"No. I'm fine," I say. The hall is clear except for us two. I was just released to go down to breakfast. It's been two days of laying around in bed and getting daily examinations, and I passed the test and got out as fast as I could.

Tobias didn't visit me at all again during that time, seeing as it'd be seen as strange. But Will and Christina had visited, and then Uriah, Marlene and even Lynn, who doesn't do anything nice for anyone.

"I just wanted to check on you before you went in," he says. "They're going to stare at you." He takes a few steps closer and gently grasps my arms, and I need to hold onto him, or is he needing to hold onto me?

He clears his throat and his eyes are bright and clear as well as he says firmly to me, "Go in there with a straight back, with your head up, because they're going to expect you to have fallen. But you haven't. Show them that this hasn't effected you, and that you're a force to be reckoned with, okay?" A finger touches my chin, and he says, "You're not weak, but they don't know that."

I nod slowly. That could work, and to my surprise but pleasure, he slowly leans in and kisses me, holding my head to him in his firm hands, right there in the middle of the hall, and I hope to God there's no one here as we think, and I kiss him back.

**FOURTRIS. MY BABIES.**

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	16. MARCUS, WE DON'T LIKE YOU

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. OVER 100 REVIEWS YOU GUYS ARE THE AWESOMEST. **

Everyone looks warily at me when I enter the dining hall. I'm the one who caused the frenzy in the camp. Apparently the sergeants had been giving orders to guards, guards were running around everywhere, and everyone was alerted to my presence. But I keep my chin up and ignore everyone's stares, including those coming from Eric and Marcus, and I get in line behind Christina, who turns to me and says, "You're back!"

"Shh," I say. "We're all supposed to be quiet and stuff."

"Right," she says. She turns back but whispers, "You missed a combat mission last night. We're doing another tonight. We're going to be rescuing people from the woods. Remember, we're getting a platoon leader to lead us instead of the drill sergeants, though they haven't been too helpful ever since we entered this camp. I hope Uriah is the leader. He'd be a good one."

But I'm quiet as I get my rations, just another MRE to eat in the big wooden building to the north of the tents. The woods. At night. Oh. That's just wonderful.

* * *

But I get through the combat mission. I stay low as we sneak in, the drill sergeants set around the woods like camp counselors, Uriah leading our platoon. I stay with my battle buddy and the dark does little to hinder me, but the panicking hits when I feel the bruises at my sides, and Christina stops and turns to me when I do this.

"Stay calm," she says, and I gulp down my fear and drag myself behind her.

When we get back to our tent, I fall asleep immediately. I feel like I'm in week one again.

* * *

But that combat mission is nothing compared to the big one. Our big final test before we go to AIT, Advanced Individual Training, which I'll be doing at a different fort in a few weeks.

This is the big test before we leave basic army training. And we better not fail.

It's called FTX as well. Field Training Exercise, but now the drill sergeants, instead of being referees and calling out our mistakes when we're done with our missions, they're working against us. Fully trained soldiers against us. This is going to be fun.

Uriah is busy the day before. He has to submit a form, and his entire platoon is tired. We've been learning over the past week or so how to set up a shelter, how we should react to an ambush, fire that's indirect, and contact with enemy forces. Patrolling techniques, principles of defense, fieldcraft, the list goes on and on and is endless. We don't just do missions here. We have to survive the military's tough regime.

The Saturday before we go, Marcus explains everything to us, how this is all going down. There's a dummy dressed the way he wants us to look, with the proper weapon. We all try not to laugh at how ridiculous it looks, all sewn and blotched with patches of brown circles.

The day of, a Monday, Uriah has already picked a spot for us to go to. He sends people on errands and ammunition comes in from the supplies. We all have packs on our backs and my cap is stuck fast on my head, feeling too small for even me. I must have gotten the smallest size.

And after Uriah has done all the prepping, we're checked over by the drill sergeants. They make sure that we have everything, that everything is secured and waterproof. Tobias does mine, tugging on my knapsack and then meeting my eyes for a brief moment. The night before, between kisses, he had wanted to know if I could do this. After the attack, his assurance in me being able to do such long tasks has diminished slightly.

But now I nod, and he turns away, before anyone can see that we're sending each other silent messages.

After waiting for everyone else to get checked out, there's the fun part. The ten-mile march to our Forward Operating base. This drains me but I keep walking, because I'm not going to fall out of line, not with Will and Christina by my sides, not when there is eyes all around me, waiting for me to fall. If Peter was here, he would have me moving. He's a motivation now, to keep moving, and show that I can't quit just because he tried. He tried and failed. And I won't.

The ten miles are finished and my bones are aching and my lungs feel burned. My sides feel even more bruised, but I don't say a word as I stand in the midst of my company. Marcus is out scouting the perimeter before we can start digging or setting up our tents. I want him to come back because I don't want to be held in limbo like this. But I want him gone, as far away from me as possible, because he is a subject of pain, of hatred and of every mix of things that can make someone feel terror, and I find myself grow cold with rage at the thought of him.

He does come back around, Tobias avoiding his eyes, and we're split into platoons. I get my friends in mine. Good. I need them to talk to. Imagine _not_ having them around.

And the rest of the day flies by in a slow sort of way.

Our platoon has to find our own perimeter, and it's there where we pitch our tents. Christina and I have an easier time this time around in setting up our tent. No help from Will. No taunting from Peter. Just a tent that'll be our home for the next few days.

After that is basic training. The teaching of skills to make us survive and kill from Eric and Tobias, and after a dinner of MREs, there's a terrain walk for us to talk, to take in the lay of the land. It feels nice to walk instead of run or march. I hope I don't get blisters on my feet.

And then there's a tick check and bed. Christina falls face first onto her sleeping bag, and speaks through the thick cloth: "What was the point of making us all move ten miles?"

I start getting dressed. My socks fall across her head, making her flinch. "It's part of the regime."

"Dang regime," she mutters into the cloth.

Exactly. And the next few days, from Monday to Thursday . . . well . . . some of the worst days of my life, or at least in my life here at this camp.

Day 2 is eating, sleeping, camouflaging, (which is more fun than it should have been. Christina nearly flings a pail of war paint on Will, who already is looking like an Indian), reviewing training drills, creating and building and camouflaging shelters, which nearly fall down. I nearly cry tears of rage as I fiercely gather the wood to help Christina build the wall back up. I always wanted a treehouse when I was a kid, but Dad didn't have time to help me build it, so I decided to make one myself. It failed miserably. Fell apart, scattering pieces all over the yard. I was ashamed of it for days.

My building skills, it seems, have not improved at all.

We're not allowed to touch the grenades. The drill sergeants demonstrate them, show them off, and I feel like Peter would have snuck into the supply station and held one. If he was still here, but he's not. Reminding myself that brightens my mood when I get into a low rage where nearly nothing can bring me back. Except Tobias.

We don't get to meet up with each other, seeing as things are tighter than ever around here, but the smiles and stares from across dozens of yards of dust can prove to put a smile on my face.

And the next day comes, whether we like it or not.

We're part of fire teams today. With shovels, we dig fire lanes. The sun beats down our back and burns the back of my neck as I scoop and fling away. I get more dirt on my face when I wipe away at the sweat. The mud intermingles with the blood trickling from a cut I got when I banged my head against a sharp corner of the supply station. It's a little cut, though, and so no way to skip the sick call. But I don't mind. Because I need to get through this. I need to finish this all by myself, or I may never forgive myself by going through seven weeks of hell on Earth for nothing.

The drill sergeants go up and down the fire lanes, and my platoon is approved. I let out a breath and I'm swept off for the next few hours, during which there is filling up holes, making Christina moan and curse under her breath when the drill sergeants aren't near, and taking down the shelters, which makes me do the same. She's a horrible influence on me.

And, after Poorman Range, then to add to all this, at 1900, we're all going on a 15K. Oh yes. I love going on a nine-mile march after a full day of making lanes and holes and doing drills as usual. But that's what we have to do.

And so we march. Canteens full, we walk. And I don't stop. I want to stop. I want to stop on a number of occasions, but I've gone on for this long. Eight long weeks. Almost. And after this, Uriah told me, there's Victory Breakfast. That's good. And graduation is coming up. Need to remember that. I just need to last until graduation.

We end up at a building where we're staying for the rest of our training. My legs ache, but it's a good ache, when I finally get to sit down. I can breathe.

Christina lets out a laugh as we head down to have our victory breakfast. She fits her arms over my and Will's shoulders, and says, grinning at the ground, "We did it, guys. As long as we restrain ourselves from getting into a massive lot of trouble, we're home free."

I smile to myself. Pinned to our fronts are First Class Private brasses. Our first pins. And we've earned them. We've toiled through blood, sweat, and tears for them. I didn't think a little piece of brass can mean so much to me, but for me to bear it, it represents weeks and weeks of me building up, of my life getting trained into something I didn't know it could be like; it's a pin that represents how far I've come since I came here as timid Beatrice Prior.

I'll be leaving here as Private Beatrice Prior. Or, as my friends call me, Tris.

But then something happens that nearly crushes my chances of graduating. I should have been expecting it, should have been on my guard, but this comes around out of nowhere and punches me in the face, to my shock.

* * *

At the building, I'm called to report to Commander Eaton's office. That is my first clue. Eric is the one to come and get me, ordering me to the office. I get off my bed and follow him, my heart pounding, but not with fear: with confusion. Why am I being sent to his office? What have I done that deserves to be investigated?

But of course, like all obvious things, the thing I've done is right in front of my face, and I realize why I'm here when I enter the office and in here also is Tobias.

Oh.

We've been discovered.

Eric closes the door behind him, sending an echo through the room. Across me, in his desk seat, arranging a few papers in front of him, is Commander Marcus Eaton. He no longer looks so calm and soothing as he had when he had looked us over. He doesn't look like he's going to explode from anger, but is right in the middling level.

I salute him, and he says, "At ease, Soldier."

My hand goes down. But I still stand as straight as can be, counting the breaths I take as they pass through my body.

Marcus stands up and looks from Tobias to me, and he frowns.

"Tobias," he says, making his son wince, "I have just received a startling report from Sergeant Burns." Eric. My teeth seethe. "It seems that he has reason to believe that you have been seeing Soldier Prior for a few weeks now. Is this true?"

Tobias turns his full attention from me to his father, his eyes flashing fear and anger at him. "Why'd he wait so long to tell you then, if he knew?"

I know. Because he didn't want me out just yet. He wanted me to have to go through hell; he wanted Tobias and I to get close together, so that our bond breaking would be all the more painful and sweet for him.

He was just waiting for the right time. But graduation is just around the corner. Of course now.

"Can you tell me why, Tobias?" Marcus says sharply, looking at his son, meeting his stare.

"Because that's what Eric does, sir. He makes sure things go according to plan before he executes it; he's a great strategist, sir," Tobias says. He gulps, sending his Adam's apple going up and down. His entire body is standing up straight, stock still. Any little movement he makes is noticeable.

"I know. And he knows that he needs to report when something illegal happens in my camp," Marcus says. He scowls. "Have you no respect for rules, Tobias? You never have; always defying mine when you were younger. But I hoped you being in the army would make you follow the rules, join the order. But no. You're still the little punk you've always been. And I thought that I punished that out of you."

"How would you beating me cause me to follow order? Violence can only lead to more violence, sir," Tobias retorts, his body still as still as a statue. "Your discipline on me has done nothing but has been scarring, and yes, sir, I have respect for rules, but I also reserve the right to do what I want. The army has no right in interfering with my love life, sir, and neither do you." He then crosses over and stands next to me. He doesn't touch me, but his presence hovers over me like a shadow; like a shield.

"I have a right, Tobias! You can't cut yourself off from me; I have a right to know that you are entering a love affair with her!" and Marcus points at me accusingly, looking frazzled. Not so calm anymore.

But Tobias and I just stare at him, glare at him, with darkened eyes and lowered eyebrows and defiant countenances. Because he can yell. He can accuse. But he can't scare us.

"And what am I cheating on? The military, Marcus?" Tobias says. He says his father's name, not sir, as he had called him. He tells me he's Marcus, but not to his face, because he had been afraid to. But now he does.

Tobias shakes his head. "You're just angry because I got away from you. That I was able to escape you; that your plan is against you now; and there's nothing you can do about it."

There's no words for a moment. Marcus is too shocked, too angry to say anything to his son, who has finally stood up to him, and who I can not be more proud of.

"What are you going to do about it, Marcus? Because if you kick her out, I'll telling. The whole world will know of Commander Marcus Eaton, who had beat his son, had physically abused him, and they'll see, they'll see the evidence. I can ruin you, Marcus, if you ruin her, so I suggest you don't do it. But leave well enough alone, and I'll keep your little secret concealed," Tobias says, his voice low, and a moment of silence passes, and Marcus finally looks to us both, his jaw set, and I can see how he looks like Tobias then. The same jaw, the same firmness in his eyes, the same facial structure.

Finally, because he cares about his career so much, Marcus agrees, though he doesn't look pleased about it. Tobias nods and turns me away from him, his hand on my back, and I feel like we're turning away as the winners, like he can't do anything against us anymore. And I'm hoping for that.

Tobias turns to me in the hallway, which is empty. It's near the time for curfew. He pushes my short hair out of my face and looks at me with such a look of relief that I've never seen it presented this plainly, and so happily, to me.

"You did it," I say, catching his wrist in my hand and leaning against it.

"Finally," he whispers. "And now there's nothing he can do about us," and he dips in and kisses me, soft and yet hard at the same time, one that shows me just how happy he is, how wonderful he feels.

And I kiss him back, feeling the same way.

* * *

_We're graduating in two days. I'm graduating from the army._

"It's about time. That's all I'm saying," Christina says, grinning. We're in our beds, our stuff being packed into our duffel bags, because our families are coming to our graduation and we're heading home. And Christina is just tickled pink that we both live in Chicago.

"Oh, yes," I say, zipping up and then falling back on my grey sheets. The past few days have been exhausting on the mind, for we're itching to get out of here. We've been repairing anything we've broken, like a couple of guns, and we've been prepping for our graduation, which includes seeing and trying on our graduation clothes, which cover pretty much every spot of inch on our legs and arms. Should be fun in the hot sun. But the rehearsal went well, and at eleven tomorrow morning, I'm getting to see my family.

Tomorrow's a Thursday. Family day. This should be fun, seeing my parents and Caleb, who I received a letter from, saying he's coming, which is strange. He says he's aced his exams, he's sure, and that he's packing up and coming with our parents to my graduation.

_"And I shall be there on Thursday with them, which I understand to be a Family Day, a day we can talk and bond more, as an entire family unit. And you can tell us all what has been happening within the walls of your barracks, and I can tell more about what has happened during the days in my dorms. I believe, Beatrice, that I may be taking different courses this following school year; Ms. Matthews, my benefactor, is teaching me the most fascinating things! I think she thinks rather highly of me._

_Well, see you on Thursday._

_Your brother, Caleb"_

Nothing like listening to your older brother going on and on about college and his professor crush. But there's something else that is bugging me . . .

I'll be going to AIT on Saturday for God knows how long, but there's something that I want to tell my mom. I don't know how she will react to it, or how Tobias will react to her knowing.

I want to tell my mom about the two of us. Tobias and I.

My mom is a very mild person. If word got around to Dad, I fear he may blow up, but this is _Mom_. This is the person who's raised me with a gentle, leading voice and hand, someone who's tried hard to make me do the right thing, the one who listens when I dare to tell her things. And I feel like I owe it to her to tell her, to let her know what is happening in her daughter's life. And there's the fact that I just want to tell someone. I want someone besides myself, Tobias and Christina and Eric and Marcus to know, someone I know can be happy about it.

I'll do that. I don't know if I can tell Tobias before I tell her, but I know one thing. I'm telling her tomorrow, and there's nothing anyone can do in stopping me.

**LA GASP. Anyway, this story is soon coming to a close. :(**

**Thanks for reading! Please review! :)**


	17. Family Reunion, Sorta

**_Sol_**_**i Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. Guys, guys, LOOK. IT'S THE SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER. I'm sorry, my friends, but I've finished writing this, and I'm not big on sequels with fanfiction because then it means all the people who haven't read the sequel have to go all the WAY BACK and read the original, and it's a lot. :(**

I see them standing in a line, all looking confused. Mom, her blonde light hair pulled back behind her head; Dad, his hair trimmed; both of their clothes set in a neat way. And there's Caleb, wearing thin-wired glasses and plaid and blue, everything blue, with his hair combed; everything about him screams college student.

When I get to them Mom is the one who steps forward, her eyes shining with a brightness, her face with a smile that's hesitant, as if she isn't sure what I am now like. It's been a long time, I suppose. Eight weeks.

But I'm the one who initiates the hug. I don't know why. It's not in my nature to be overly affectionate; that combined with strict military training, that should have been enough. But something overwhelms me, because seeing my mother makes me feel like I'm sixteen again, and I hug her tightly. She does the same after a moment, having been startled before.

"Beatrice," she says. We break the embrace and her eyes still for a moment. I must look different. The short hair, the lean muscles, the hardened face.

"They call me Tris here. When they're not calling me 'Soldier' and 'PRIOR'," I say. My voice sounds shakier than I had anticipated.

"Oh. Okay. Tris." Mom nods and Dad comes forward. Our hug is brief and hard. He pulls away first and gives me a curt nod. "It's nice to see you . . . Tris."

I nod and turn to Caleb, who is checking something on his phone. My eyebrows furrow. He senses me looking at him and looks up. He quickly stuffs his phone into his pockets and says in his quick, polite voice, "Tris." He gives me a quick hug, one I barely feel. I give him a smile that has to force its way to the surface.

"How has the military been treating you?" he says conversationally.

"Like a soldier," I say.

"That's good. How has the training been going? How have you ranked? How is the ranking system here? Are you able to roam the halls, or do you have to have passes? Do you talk with the officers after classes?" This question makes my heart pound. Caleb is usual, with his never ending questions. That's why his letter had surprised me. He's always wanting to know more. He's thirsty for knowledge, and so this onslaught of questions doesn't surprise me too much, but this last stops me cold, and I just stare at him, my heart pounding.

Mom steps forward and puts a hand on Caleb's shoulder. "You're overwhelming your sister, Caleb," she says, her voice light and sweet. She's never been a firm chastiser. That is Dad's job. Her voice also holds something else, like she knows that I don't want to answer that last particular question.

She turns her head around, taking in the yard and the reuniting families. I see Christina and her mom and sister in the crowd, Will with someone who looks like she can be his sister. She turns back to me. "Would you show us the barracks and the buildings, Tris?"

I nod quickly. A tour. Good.

I can talk to her later. I take a deep breath. She's going to know before the end of this day. I won't let a fear of my mom being mad cloud my better judgment.

The tour goes well. While he doesn't ask any more questions about the system, Caleb asks numerous questions and voices many comments about the building as we see the classrooms and barracks and bathrooms and dining hall. Dad takes in everything, nods, and doesn't say a word. I know he doesn't want to give a sign he likes anything. He was vehemently against my choice.

But my mom surprises me. She provides regular conversation so that I'm not just answering Caleb's questions with short, monosyllabic answers. It's relieving to talk to her. She tells of what has happened at home, about their getting ready and coming to my fort.

The tour comes to an end in the yard, and Dad goes after Caleb, saying that the two of them are going to use the restroom and then get the picnic lunch. I hope they brought a picnic blanket.

My heart pounds as they walk away. This is a good time. Okay. It's not a good time, but it's the time I need to seize and use.

I shudder when I hear Mom's voice. "Let's go find a place for our blanket, Tris."

I nod and we cross the yard to the outskirts, near the fence. The yard is filling with many different picnic blankets. Families are talking and laughing. Children are running around. Faces I've seen hardened and cold and stony are bright and relieved looking with their families. This place drains you, mentally, physically, and emotionally.

I don't see Tobias at all. I haven't seen him at all today. He's probably in his office, not wanting to interfere with the families. From what I know, all he has is Marcus. I wonder how the family visiting day went for him.

We sit down. My mom and I, we look alike, our legs bent and our arms wrapped loosely around them. I look at the ground.

A silence fills the air. Just for a moment. And then Mom clears her throat.

"Tris. You've never been good at lying," she says.

"I'm not lying," I whisper.

"You're withholding something," she says. Her voice sounds gentle. My mom is so gentle. Nothing but wispy and gentle.

I turn to face her then. She's not smiling. Her lips are set in a line. Waiting.

I inhale. "Mom. I haven't exactly had the most normal time here."

"Something's happened." She's guessing ahead. She's guessing right.

"Yeah." I shift. Exhale. Now's the time. Don't think. Just do. Don't think. "I am in a relationship."

"With a boy?" she says, startling me. She doesn't miss a beat.

"Yes." Another hard part. "And . . . he's one of the drill sergeants."

"Oh." That's all she says for a moment. Then, "That's out of character, Beatrice. I always thought you as such a quiet girl. And yet you've done this." Something squeezes my shoulder. Her hand is there. and I find myself leaning against her.

"Breathe, honey," she whispers.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

"Does anyone else know?" she asks.

"Just my bunkmate. And his father," I say. "And another one of the drill sergeants."

"You haven't gotten in trouble, have you?" she asks next.

I shake my head against her shoulder. Smile inside to myself. "No. We're clear."

"Oh, that's good," she says. She takes in a deep breath. "Care to explain how this all came about?"

And I launch into a conversation with her, one that's almost one-sided, seeing as she barely says anything when I pause to catch my breath. And I tell her everything. Well, I go less graphic in the kissing scenes. Her eyes widen at hearing my kidnapping to the woods. I feel her seizing up, and then she wraps an arm around me and holds me closer as I continue.

"They sent you a notice," I whisper.

"I didn't get it," she says. She sounds like a protective lioness over her cub. Like she has a bone to pick with the military.

And at the end, I sit up and look at her straight in the eye. She stares back at me for a moment, and then says, "You've grown up, Tris. You've been making a lot of your own decisions. You have to be ready to suffer the consequences."

I know that. I've always known that. I've felt them. I nod.

Mom smiles slightly, and looks over the green-and-brown-spotted field, and says, "Can you find him? Point him out to me?"

I straighten and strain my eyes. I highly doubt he'll be here with all the families, but then, to my surprise, I catch sight of him. He's walking over to us, his step firm, his face not quite set in the usual stern expression. It's not happy either, though.

"That's him," I say.

Mom raises an eyebrow. "He looks familiar."

"Familiar?" I say. How can my mom recognize him? She's never seen him before, has she? Maybe. He did live in Chicago. "He said he's from Chicago. Have you seen him there?"

"What did you say his name was, again?" Mom asks. She sounds faraway.

I frown. "Tobias Eaton."

"Eaton." Her voice is barely a breath. "Eaton."

WHY does she recognize that name? But I can't ask any more questions as Tobias is upon us. Mom and I stand up and I salute him. I don't know why. But I also nod. This is on purpose. He knows that she knows.

"At ease," he says, his tone not as cool as it usually is. He nods to my mother, and I quickly introduce her. Mom smiles and shakes his hand as he introduces himself.

"A drill sergeant? Have you had a hard time with the recruits this time around?" Mom asks. She puts her arm around me again, smiles mischievously. "And how has my daughter been behaving?"

"Out of line," Tobias says. "Defying the military left and right. A rebel, really."

"And you like that, apparently?" Mom asks.

Oh man. Christina once said that she had introduced a boy to her mother and the entire thing had been embarrassing as hell. But Tobias seems to get her point. He even smiles. "I lit the rebel part of her, ma'am."

"It wasn't there beforehand. So I'm certain you're right," Mom says. She looks past Tobias and spots Dad and Caleb. "Oh. There's my husband and son. Would you like to join us for lunch?"

Tobias shakes his head after a moment. "No, thank you. I need to be heading back to my office. Graduation, obviously, is tomorrow, and I have plenty of paperwork to get through." He nods and says, "I'll see you both tomorrow, then." He smiles especially at me and then walks away, almost hurrying, before my father and brother can catch him.

My mom looks amazed at something. "Eaton."

"What about his last name?" I say. It's eating away at me that I don't know.

"His father's name is Commander Marcus Eaton. I know," she says. Before Caleb and Dad are near enough to hear, she says, "He used to be my drill sergeant."

My stomach drops and my mouth goes dry and I just stare at my mom as she greets my dad and helps him spread out the picnic blanket.

Caleb brings me a soda. "Tris, close your mouth. You'll catch flies."

My mouth closes like a fish's.

The picnic goes well, I guess. I eat automatically, barely hear any of the words my mom says to my dad. I wonder if she'll tell him about Tobias and me. I think not, though. Mom knows when to keep a secret, even from Dad.

**Well, whatchu think? :3**

**Thanks for reading! God bless you!**


	18. Oh No, It's an Ending, Folks

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent.  
**

**Last chapter fellows. Now, I'm just no good at sequels. BUT, we shall see. Oh, and I know Wikipedia cannot be totally trusted, but it's more than nothin', aye? :)  
**

Graduation. This is what we've been looking forward to. This is what I have been working for for eight weeks.

The outfit fits well. I feel a bit more secure with my hat against my hair. I'm all clean, crisp, my head up, and I look around the barracks for one last time. My eyes fall on my friends. Christina laughs at something that Will says. He looks happy that he made her laugh. Marlene and Uriah look pleasantly at Lynn, who is impatiently pacing the floor, waiting for the call to march to the stage.

But there's the call. Here we go. Our black hats firm against our heads, we march out. Tobias is ahead of me, our drill sergeant, his tan brimmed hat sticking out of the sea of green and black.

I hear them first. All I can really see around me are people. A lovely plus to being short. But I know my family is in the stands. I know that we're on a field. I can hear the music coming from the instruments. Above my head, even I can see the flags being held. I can hear someone in the speakers, announcing the companies.

We come to a halt on the field facing the stands, and I can see my parents. They're at the top. Mom is smiling. Dad is nodding, listening to something Caleb is saying. Mom points me out to them, and they're all looking at me.

It's strange, to think that I'm getting attention from them. I've gotten more attention from my parents, my brother, Christina, and Tobias than I have in eighteen years prior. And that's strange. Not unwelcome. But strange.

I move in formation as we stand in straight lines. The speeches boom above me. People in the stands are walking around, sitting, taking everything in. And I breathe. Because this is it. This is a big portion of my life, over. Next is AIT. But this . . . this is now.

And then there's one of the officers handing me a pack of papers in a file that's blue and professional. My name is called. Private Tris Prior. And that's what I've become. I've earned my title. I've done every bodily punishment they wanted me to do. I got the points; I survived.

I won.

After the ceremony, when we're dissipated, I throw a hug onto Christina, who can't stop smiling.

"We did it," she says. She squeezes my shoulder and says, "I'll find you," and she gets pulled away by Will, whose hand is making hers disappear in his.

I can only stand there blankly before I see raised eyebrows, one jerking away from here, and I'm following him at a pace behind him. He stays a few yards ahead of me, and I look away from him as often as I can. No one seems to notice us.

It's in the back of the stands where we wind up. I laugh. Just like high school students.

Tobias salutes me and I do the same, and he catches me in his arms and holds me firmly against him. I sigh in relief and tuck my head against his neck. His arms around me are like protective coils covering me, keeping me safe from harm. And he whispers, "It's over. I knew you were going to do it." He lets go of me and has to look down to meet my eyes. I stare at him intently as he whispers, "I knew you wouldn't fail."

"You're saying that you had complete confidence in me the entire time?" I say.

"No, of course not." He bends closer. His hooked nose touches mine. "I was the one who decided to help you with the disassembling of the gun, didn't I?" He laughs.

"Thanks for that, by the way," I say. "But I did pretty much the rest."

"Use your elbows. That was _your_ advice?" he says.

"I did all the work," I say.

I can feel his breath tickle against my skin. "Giving advice to someone like you is a lot of work."

"Nope. No credit for you," I say, poking his shoulder. I feel a smile appearing on my face.

"Fine. Take it all. Everything," he whispers. "Take this, too," and he kisses me and then carefully pulls away, his face suddenly dead serious, not like it had been with our bantering. "I think this is the time."

"The time for saying goodbye?" I say, startled, aghast.

He nods. No. No. I can't leave him. I can't leave him. I can't leave him.

"No," I whisper.

"But the answer is yes," he says. His voice sounds huskier than normal.

I straighten. I've made it through these eight weeks because I've had him, but I also had something else. Determination. The surge of courage to get through my fears. So I whisper fiercely, "Then let's make it unforgettable," and I catch his head in my hands, their small size catching at the curves of his neck and his hair, which is thicker than I remember, and I kiss him, and his eyes close and I'm the one in control. I realize that I've been in control more than I thought I was. I'm the one determining things, making them happen. I am the master of what I do.

And when we break off, I stare at him, looking deeply into his eyes, which are surprised but quickly turned calm, and I say, "This is the final goodbye, or will I see you at the cars?"

"Final." We can't be seen together. No. Not even the fact that I'm out covers the horrors people would feel if we came out holding hands.

"Okay," I whisper, and my hands climb down from his hair and play at the collar of his green khaki shirt, my thumb pressing against his collarbone. He tips my chin back, though, and whispers, "Goodbye, then, Tris."

Something chokes in my throat. I want to say something quick, witty, like, "More like see you later," but the words get caught, and I'm lost for words.

He holds me against him, my fingers still twisting his shirt. He kisses the top of my head and says, "Okay."

This gives me time to take a deep breath. I take my head off his chest and look up, and whisper a series of numbers.

His brow furrows. "What does that mean?"

I smile bleakly. "It's my phone number."

"Repeat it, then," and our phone numbers are exchanged, and then our emails, and then our home addresses, and we're laughing.

"Your parents are probably looking for you," Tobias says after a while.

"Probably," I say. "Which one of us is leaving first?"

"I will," he says. He lets go of me and walks backwards quite easily, his hands in his pockets, his eyes looking at the ground and then at me. His face is completely serious as he says only so I can hear him, "I love you."

A goodbye. An "I love you."

My breath catches and I say before I can think, before I can breathe, "I love you, too."

The look on his face is going to be imprinted on my mind forever. He looks so relieved, so warm, so exerted. And then he turns and walks away.

I wait a few minutes before I go to find my family. My bags are picked up from my barracks, and Dad and Caleb talk about what restaurant we're going to before I head off to AIT. Mom glances at me. I give her a weak smile and she wraps an arm around my shoulders.

At the car, Dad packs my bag in the trunk and Mom lets me go to head to the passenger's seat. Caleb passes by me, talking as he gets into the car. I turn so the door doesn't hit me, and I look out over the crowd, and I see him. I see his dark eyes staring back at me. I see the twinge of a smile across his face.

I smile back.

His face disappears in the crowd.

**THE END.**


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